


Strings Attached

by Beshter



Series: Strung Together [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, Lost Love, M/M, Parallel Universes, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 106,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beshter/pseuds/Beshter
Summary: Pete Tyler thought he was agreeing to making his entire life better. Sometimes gifts come with strings attached. When his entire life is turned upside down, fate gives him a second chance at pulling it together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't guess, this is sort of different. This is my version of the parallel Pete Tyler. I hesitate to call it AU because...well, it's more parallel than alternate. It's a story that is very near and dear to me. As a Daddy's girl, I always clicked with Pete and Rose's story, more so when my own father passed away while I was writing this. I loved exploring Pete and his journey towards his family. I hope you enjoy it as well.

It wasn't the first fight they had like this. Hell, it wasn't even the second or third. Pete Tyler assumed it was somewhere in the hundreds, but he had lost count somewhere after the first week they'd been together. It was so predictable now it followed a script, almost, a familiar pattern that he could recognize nearly before the angry words came spilling out of his mouth. Like an oncoming storm he watched it, helpless to stop it, as first Jackie screamed, and then he screamed, and she threw something at him. And as usual their shouting had earned thumping on the walls of their flat and curious looks out of neighbors windows as Pete grabbed his trainers and stormed out, taking only his jacket and cigs into the drizzle of late-evening, June rain. He could hear Jackie's shrieks from above him as he stalked across Powell Estates, the sound ringing off broken concrete to echo hollow in his ears.

_Fucking, stupid cu…._

He stopped his thoughts before he went that far. Jackie was many things, but even he had a limit in his mental cursing of her. Why in the hell had she started in on him this time? The muddy shoes in the doorway? The smell of perfume on the collar? The dirty dishes left since breakfast on the coffee table? Hell, he couldn't remember, and honestly he didn't care. Bad enough he had spent the entire day at Rog's, up to his eyeballs in notes and prototypes, trying to figure out marketing strategies and gimmicks on a dime, all to sell a crappy, health drink. Vitex was what the guy making it called it. Scam was what Jackie called it, and Pete hated to admit he was inclined to agree with her. But still, he'd agreed to sell it and like bloody hell he was going to back out on it. It wasn't a bad product. And he had ideas for it, ideas to make it a better product, if he could get enough sales, get enough money together to buy the guy out. All he needed was time, time when he wasn't having to appease the hoyden he was married to. Pete wasn't even sure that was possible. Her raging accusations still rang through his ears, even blocks away now, cutting and harsh. 

It had been that way a lot lately, so much so that he had forgotten what it was like when he and Jackie had gotten along. They had been happy once, back in the day, before they had married. Back when he'd been in the band and he had met her at a party. She had fluttered her overdone, blue eyes at him under her fringe of poofed up, peroxide blonde hair. That hadn't been what had turned him on to her, though, 'cause there were loads of women in London who did that to him. That had happened later, in the parking lot, when Jackie had thrown herself at some drunken arse who had wanted to pick a fight. No more than eight stones, if that, she had thrown herself on top of a man twice her size, all nails and heels, taking him down neatly as he lay groaning and sobbing on the pavement. She had turned, smiling up at him and asked him for drinks. Pete was still not sure whether he agreed out of admiration or terror, but he had said yes.

Drinks of course turned into more serious things, and one day Pete had found himself using his meager savings to purchase a chip of diamond on a silver band, and presenting it to her in front of her crying mother and taciturn father. Neither of them believed that Pete Tyler could care properly for their Jackie and didn't mind saying so in loud voices behind closed doors. But they willingly ponied up for a nice wedding because her mother refuses to have her only daughter married off in some office. Still, even their money couldn't extend to a fancy church service with a cotton-candy confection of a dress, but Jackie pretended she didn't care. She borrowed her suit off a girlfriend, her father used connections to get a nice reception room for the service, they paid for a lunch for everyone. Of course, there had been muttering. Pete had heard it, and remembered, even if Jackie had lifted her chin and said her wedding was perfect for the two of them.

Those had been the good times.

They had spent the first months living in her parents' place, making love frantically in those moments when her father had the telly on so loud the neighbors could hear it. He looked for work without success. Times were hard, no jobs to be found for a guy who's only experience was in playing in a band. But Pete Tyler knew how to hustle and he could make a sales pitch like nobody could. So he took the odd sales job here and there, all for crap really. But he learned. He was always doing that, learning, gathering up big ideas and changing them. Even when he was a kid he could do that, improve on inventions, come up with new ones. He had a knack for it. He was always telling Jackie about how he could make things better, whatever new gadget he was being asked to sell. She'd smile at him, and nod, and tell him to take the garbage out.

Pointed looks had turned to muttered suggestions over the dinner table, as silent conversations ran between Jackie and her parents. Even Pete got the message finally and knew his in-laws welcome had run out. He had a mate who lived in Powell Estates, not exactly ideal, but okay for the two of them, just starting out. Jackie had balked initially, fearful of the graffiti and grime, but had acquiesced when he assured her it was only temporary. The next big job he got, the next big idea he sold, they would be out of there, living the sort of life her parents wanted for her. All he needed was the next big thing.

Oh he had ideas, plenty of them, and he was always trying to spin them out. Schematics filled notebooks on the coffee table and the closet was stuffed with the odds and ends of tests and trials. Jackie had put up with it at first, proudly showing off his drawings to their friends as if they were his collection of bowling trophies earned on their nights out. But soon her eyes began to roll like theirs when he would hold up the sheets of ruled paper sketched in his quick, neat hand. And then she would ask how much this idea would cost them, and had he made his commission on his last sale yet because rent was due and their cupboard was bare. Hurt, he shot back something smart, and she would grow angry, and that was when the yelling began. The good times went away soon after that.

Now, the fighting seemed to be the only communication that they had. Even their trips out bowling had turned into pissing contests between them, with Jackie's stage whisper hissing through space about Pete not living up to his potential. He pretended to hear nothing, just coolly rolling the ball down the varnished wood, the rumble of its passing briefly covering up the hums of agreement from her pack of girlfriends. His mates, the husbands and boyfriends of many of them, would nod at him in sympathy, all of them having gone through the gauntlet of personal failings themselves that evening. Pete would say nothing, merely swoop in to plant a kiss on Jackie's heavily made-up cheek and brag about his nearly perfect score.

And so it went, night after night, Jackie whinging about bills and late payment notices, and Pete assuring her that just around the corner was the next big thing. He knew she believed he was never going to make it. And frankly, he was starting to believe it himself. This Vitex gig was supposed to be the thing that finally broke them out of the cycle. With all the health-craze going on in this world, who couldn't be talked into a vitamin drink? Except it tasted like horse piss and smelled even worse, for all that it was supposed to make you healthier. He knew how to fix it, of course, had told the owner so, and he had lazily replied that if Pete could buy him out of his investment in it, he could do whatever the hell he wanted with it. And so Pete had agreed, in principle. Jackie, however, had thought he was mad. Now months on, he had a living room filled with Vitex, a wife so disappointed she couldn't bother being civil, and a mountain in debt that looked as if he would never climb it.

This was not the life that Pete Tyler had signed up for. When he was a child he had told anyone who would listen he'd be a great inventor and make millions. They had humored him then. Now as an adult they simply thought him barmy and irresponsible. And he couldn't say that they were wrong, least of all Jackie. Jackie, the one person he was trying so hard to earn these millions for...the one person, if he admitted it to himself, whose opinion mattered the most to him.

He stopped, turning to stare back down the street, to the distant block of lights that was his home. There Jackie waited, likely crying as she called her cousin or maybe watching telly cursing his name. God, he loved her, despite it all, despite the anger and abuse. He wanted to do this for her, to prove to her that she wasn't wrong in marrying him. And if he were half-a-man, he'd go back this second, beg forgiveness from his wife, promise to lay off the dreams for a while and get a real job, and then shag her all night till they couldn't walk. He would go home and settle down, finally, no matter if he hated it, get a job working in a factory or a shop, come home to telly and chips of a night and go out for bowling. He'd lay off the dreams and focus on what mattered the most to him, when he admitted it, Jackie. All he had to do was turn right back around and walk down the street and ask for forgiveness. Every cell in his body ached to do it. He wanted Jackie in his arms, her lips against his, pressing her body into the creaking springs of their worn-out mattress. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and promise to make everything right. His feet lifted, moved, his body and thoughts returning to the scene where just an hour before he had been screaming at her.

"Peter Tyler?"

He paused, turning in the drizzle, squinting into the darkness to find the voice. It wasn't that unusual in the council estates for someone to call out his name, he was well known enough, but no one called him Peter, not since his mother died. No one was about this time of night, save a single woman, standing beside a red sedan, an umbrella over her golden head.

"Can I help you?" He could be polite at least. She didn't seem to be trouble, at least not what accounted for trouble in these parts. She was too...nice for that. Not tall, very young, looked to be no more than a uni kid, with hair so flat Jackie would itch to reach for her curlers. It was pulled back in a sensible bun. She didn't look the sort who would normally hang around the estates, and she wasn't someone who should know his name.

The girl smiled at his question, shaking her head. "No, you can't. Help me, that is. But that's not why I'm here."

He stared at her across the pavement. "Who are you?"

"My name is Yvonne."

Nothing about that rang a bell. "Look, Yvonne, I don't know what you are up to, but it's late, and my wife is waiting, and I'm not interested in anything you're selling, so maybe we should just go our separate ways…"

"I'm not selling anything, Mr. Tyler," she replied coolly, all the while making Pete cringe at the "mister" title. "And it is late. Your wife is waiting, but I know that since you two argued, she's not expecting you back anytime soon. So take a few minutes and chat with me."

"About?"

She lifted her shoulders in her long, brown trench coat. She reminded him, absurdly, of one of those black and white movies with Humphrey Bogart or a spy movie with people meeting in dark alleys. Her enigmatic smile stayed still, however, and he swore lightly, glancing to the lights of the Powell Estates in the distance. Curiosity always got him in trouble, he couldn't help it, and it wasn't everyday he was propositioned by a woman on the street, no matter what Jackie said.

"All right," he muttered, tossing his cigarette butt in the gutter and crossing the street. The girl opened the passenger's side door for him, indicating he should get in. He went, glad for a moment to get out of the dreary drizzle as she rounded the car and got in at the driver's side.

Later, hours later, he stepped out of the nondescript sedan, into the lightening sky and misty rain, lighting another cigarette with shaky hands. He pulled on it, hard, his pale skin gray in the pre-dawn light. Beside him, Yvonne rounded the car, her umbrella over her head, her enigmatic smile firmly in place.

"Do we have an agreement, Mr. Tyler?"

He turned red-rimmed eyes to glance at her for long, silent moments, smoke curling out of his nostrils. Finally he nodded, a jerky shake of his head. She seemed pleased.

"Good. Representatives from Torchwood will reach out to you shortly." She reached into one of her pockets, pulling out a business card. Torchwood Institute was emblazoned on it in neat, block letters, like a university. There was a seal on it. His thumb grazed the upraised, embossed writing. Her name was printed clearly on the bottom. Yvonne Hartman, Associate Director of Public Relations.

"Public relations?" He laughed at that, a bitter sound in the cool, morning air. "Is that what you call it?"

"I don't think intelligence and corporate espionage plays well when one is supposed to be a research institute," she replied dryly. "Per our agreement, Torchwood will take the necessary steps on your behalf."

An image he remembered from some movie long ago, about a devil and someone selling their soul, leaped to mind. "I get to do what I want? It's still my thing, right?"

"Everything will be as we agreed," she assured him smoothly, her eyes flickering to the gray block of Powell Estates emerging out of the darkness in the distance. "Things will change for you, Peter Tyler, for you and your wife. Do you think you can handle it?"

Pete looked at the card, rubbed his thumb over it once more, then placed it into his front, breast pocket, beside his cigs. "Yeah."

"Then we will be in touch." The woman nodded politely, her smile widening brightly. "I think you and I will get along famously, Peter."

The look she gave him as she walked away spoke to a hope that they would. Pete gulped at that, moving away from the car as the girl got in and drove away. Had it only been seven hours since he got into that car with this woman and had everything changed? It had been as simple as a car ride, out of the dingy grime of the area he lived, to the tall office building on Canary Wharf, where an offer was made that he couldn't refuse, an offer that would change everything. His heart thumped painfully in his chest as he considered the night and then his steps were rushing, running, racing over the slick pavement, towards the estates, across the scummy bricks and up the stairway that smelled like vomit and piss. 

He was back through the door, lungs heaving, skin sticky with rain and sweat as he tossed himself first towards his empty, darkened bedroom, then towards the sitting area, where sure enough, Jackie lay curled on the sofa, asleep in a ball, as the silent television glowed in the corner. He smiled softly, reaching a hand to stroke his wife's platinum hair, tumbled amongst pillows. She didn't stir, but snored slightly as he chuckled, squatting down beside the couch, studying her make-up smeared face, slack in slumber.

"It's going to be all right, Jacks...finally." He murmured, eyes filling inexplicably with tears. "For the first time, it's all going to be all right, I'll show you."

He wished he could wake her. He wished he could tell her. But he couldn't, he knew that. Torchwood told him that. But he knew, he believed them, that it was all going to be better soon. And he would be able, for the first time ever, to prove himself to his wife.

Everything was going to be perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

_Twenty years later..._

The shrieking bounced off the walls. High-pitched and squalling, it permeated through Pete Tyler's eardrums, sending chemical impulses to his dreaming brain that initiated panic and alarm in him even before he was cognizant. Without warning, he threw back covers and sheets, feet hitting the floor as he sat, blinking at a rather ugly picture of what he supposed some artist thought a traditional, British village looked like.

The shrieking didn't stop.

Blearily he turned towards the earbuds on the nightstand. The obnoxious noise ended but it's aftermath still reverberated through the still air and through his skull, earning a sleepy grunt as he contemplated why he shouldn't throw the blasted piece of plastic against the wall again? Because, he realized with grudging admission, he would just have to buy a new ones. And in an age when everyone on the planet had ear pods that streamed information at them twenty-four, seven, he shouldn't be without. With a reluctant sigh he barked the name of Miles Connor. He could hear the connection pick up on the other end.

"The master has awakened, has he?" Miles dry, nasal drawl sounded at the other end of the ear pod, bemused and unrepentant. Not for the first time Pete wondered why he put up with it and remembered that Miles was one of the best PA's he'd had ever, not to mention he knew six ways to kill a human.

"It's too early in the morning for your lip, Miles, and you are too far away to hurt." Not that he could manage that feat. Pete knew that despite the slick, neatly gelled blonde hair and the trim, ultra-hipster black-framed glasses was a man who had spent years in special operations for the Republic of Great Britain and had worked on missions that even Pete couldn't know about. Besides, he was a whiz at handling Pete's schedule, could type 90 words a minute, and made an amazing cup of coffee, so he was useful to keep around.

"Promises, promises." Miles hardly sounded impressed. "Are you up yet?"

Pete lied. "I'm moving to the kitchen right now." He flopped back on the pillows.

"Since I hear no coffee maker going, I will assume you are still in bed." Miles sardony even sounded like a smirk. Pete rolled his eyes. "It's currently six in the morning, you have a meeting at eigh with the Vitex board regarding latest earnings report, a ten o'clock interview with Sherry Wexler at the BBC…"

"Sherry? She the blonde or the brunette?" Pete scrubbed at his bristled face, already beginning to hate his day.

"She's gone ginger now. She's interviewing you for some piece on British titans of business."

He glanced at his rumpled and well-worn pajamas and snorted. "Some titan. Obviously haven't seen me without a shave."

"Let them keep their fantasy. It will break their heart to know you still have t-shirts from the 1970's," Miles assured him blandly. "Then at noon, you have Yvonne Hartman?"

Pete made a face and groaned.

"What does she want?"

"You, naked, on her Union Jack sheets, preferably with a bottle of fine French wine and a box of chocolates."

If Pete had been drinking anything he would have choked. Instead he spluttered at the imagery, cringing at the visuals. "Bloody hell, Miles, what did you have to go and do that for?"

"It's why they pay me so well, you know," he replied without a hint of regret. "You know she has wanted you for years, right?"

Twenty to be exact. And he knew, ever since that fateful night when everything changed.

"Right, I'll do it. Get a report together for me so I can take something. Anything else?"

"The last matter of business, of course, is tonight's event. Chicken or fish?"

Pete's stomach curdled at the thought of either. "Do I have to?"

"It is your wife's birthday party, sir."

Jackie. His wife.

"I suppose we have to keep up appearances." The words tasted sour coming out of his mouth. "Pick whatever, I don't care, like as not won't be eating it anyway."

"She'll notice," Miles warned, his tone sing-song. There was no love lost there for Jackie.

"What else is new?" He rubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to ignore visions of Jackie screeching at him later for ruining her birthday. "Did you send the gift I asked you to get her?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Miles?"

"Sir, are you sure pink bunny slippers are how you want to convey the fact that you are still in love with your estranged wife?"

"It was the first present I ever got her!" It had been a cheap pair from some dodgy market. They looked as if they would melt if they got too near an open heating source and most of the fur had come off in the first wash, but Jackie had kept them for years early on, sentimentally claiming that they were her warmest pair, even when clearly they weren't.

"Sir, that's cute and all, but don't you think diamonds or a new fur would be nicer?"

"Miles, you hate my wife," he growled into the phone. "What in the world do you care?"

"I don't. But I also hate that you are miserable without her."

The sigh that emanated from Pete told the whole, sad story. He stared at the bleak, gray light out of the window. "I am such a sodding prat, aren't I?"

"I'd call it something different, but to each their own," Miles muttered in that cool, smug way that seem to convey both his superiority and his indifference.

"Jackie has diamonds enough, Miles. And besides, the slippers have fur, mink or some other such rodent they've dyed that hideous color she likes so much."

"I guess it will be memorable."

"I hope." Pete finally managed to drag himself to the edge of the bed. His toes searched out his slippers, sliding into them. With effort, he rose, joints creaking in ways he didn't want to think about. "Anything else?"

"You finally out of bed?"

"Yes, you vile bastard, and I'm making my coffee. Have the driver be here for me at 7:30, right?"

"Your wish is my command, even if I think pink, mink-fur bunny slippers are ridiculous."

"Sod off," he snapped, clicking off his phone, even as he could hear his assistant's laughter on the other end. He stood by the bed, rubbing his face, contemplating whether to shower or get coffee. The need to wake up quickly screamed shower and so he wandered into his small, cold en suite, flipping on the water, letting it warm as he stared at himself blearily in the mirror.

Jackie's birthday. She would be thirty-nine now? Forty? Hell, he lost count, trying to think back to their wedding years before. She'd been eighteen? She had to be forty now, right? Not that she'd admit it. Jackie Tyler would rather cut the fat diamond off her finger than admit to her real age. Of course, considering the current state of their marriage, he was surprised she hadn't. Given how much she had whined till he had given it to her as a tenth anniversary present years ago, he doubted she'd ever let that go. Forty years. God, that made him...he didn't want to think about it. Knowing it was depressing. Over fifty, that much he'd admit to. And he looked every bit of it. His ginger hair had begun thinning ages ago, and he now simply kept it buzzed short, utilitarian and smart, thankfully with no gray yet. But what he lacked there, he made up for with the lines on a face that used to be always smiling, always happy, always making a joke or dreaming an idea. That had been years ago, though. The old Pete Tyler, the one who had spent his days beating the streets just to pick up a quid and his evenings bowling with his mates, or playing in his band, or getting pissed on his own body weight's worth of beer. When was the last time he had done anything fun like that?

Back before Yvonne Hartman and Torchwood showed up in his life.

He still recalled that rainy night, thought about it often. He'd gotten in that car and been told that there were things in this world he couldn't imagine, of how there were aliens and rifts, and technologies that would make even his wildest, most fanciful creations seem like children's toys. He had scoffed at the pale, slip of a girl, but she had shrugged and driven him to Canary Wharf. And what he saw there that night convinced him that not only was she right, but that the entire universe and how he understood it was completely wrong.

"That's why we need you, Peter," she had said, smilingly charmingly as he had tried to take it all in. They stood in a cold, sterile lab, somewhere in the bowels of the glass and metal building, staring at something that by all rights shouldn't exist. It wasn't big, only as tall as he was and barely as wide, but it was advanced, that much was for sure, far more so than anything Pete had ever seen. And Yvonne assured him it was alien. "We need men like you, men who have vision and talent, to help us make sense of all this. And to help us protect our planet from itself."

"From itself?" Pete had blinked at her as if she were mad. "The technology here, the things that it could do…"

"Can change the world under the right circumstances, yes. But under the wrong ones, what could happen?" She blinked mildly at an alien spaceship, the sort you'd see in those bad movies as a kid in the cinema. "And of course, there's always the aliens themselves. They are around, mostly quiet, keep to themselves and their own business. But every so often - well, there are those who have ideas. We try to take care of it quietly, of course."

"What, like Men in Black?"

She'd laughed at that. "Peter, you're too cute. That old, wives tale? Nothing like that. Torchwood was established by the family of our old royals under a charter by Queen Victoria. One of the last she signed before they permanently had to remove the royal family because of the raging Lycanthropy. Their hope was that through our work we could protect Great Britain from whatever outside threats may come. Say what you will against the old royals, they were patriots. And it's our job to make sure that work gets carried out."

Pete honestly didn't care one way or the other about the old royal family. But he did care about himself and his life. "Is this stuff you want me doing dangerous?"

"For you? Probably not. We need you to be our eyes and ears."

"What, you mean like a spy? Like with a tux and martini while he's shooting up people?"

"This isn't one of those John Shackleton movies, with the super spy who gets all the women and all the gadgets." Yvonne glanced towards the spacecraft. "Well, at least some of the gadgets. The truth is, Peter, what we need is someone who isn't out to make a splash. We need someone who can fit in, someone who is friendly, gregarious, charming, but smart and cunning as well."

"And you want me to spy on what?"

"Torchwood is a research institute, Peter, we monitor the situations on Earth. We try to keep it safe as best we can and we hope that nothing gets too out of control. We have had access to technology that has been able to change the world radically in the 140 years since our charter. But we aren't in the business of making money and profit. Sometimes, we partner with those who are interested in the technology. Other times, there are those who would want the technology and not bother asking for it. Still, there are those out there who stumble on something, some bit of alien refuse left behind and not realizing what they have, begin messing about. We have to keep tabs on what's out there, who has what, and what it could be doing."

"Corporate espionage?" It finally made sense to him. He scrubbed at his face, the growth of whiskers rough against his palms. "You want someone on the inside keeping an eye on things for you?"

"Yes," she replied simply.

"Why me?" After all, in his battered jeans and worn out t-shirt, he hardly screamed corporate spy. He wasn't sure he'd even be picked up by a grungy, local band.

"We've been watching you for a while." She smiled. 

It didn't stop Pete from becoming horrified at the very idea. "Watching me? Why? What have I done?"

"It's not what you've done. It's what you could be. Don't think your work hasn't been noticed."

"Work?" He snorted, running nervous fingers through what was left of his ginger hair. "Clearly you ain't been watching too proper, work is something I don't have."

"I thought the plans you had for low-cost solar power were quite impressive."

"That? I was just borrowing bits and pieces off other people's work I saw in the engineering mags," He waved it off impatiently before stopping. It took several seconds for the penny to drop. When it did, he turned on her, wide-eyed. "How did you know about that?"

"You turned it into one of those mags, remember? A contest for prize money?"

Pete felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the young woman, who only grinned glibly. "That was three years ago and I didn't win anything."

"No, you didn't. We gave the prize to some nutter in Manchester who figured out how to have a self-flushing toilet, but that wasn't the point."

"You?"

Yvonne nodded airily. "Torchwood subsidizes most of those magazines you like, you know, a way for us to see what's out there, monitor what is ours, what isn't, and whether it's a threat or not. Control, limits, that's what this game is all about! And besides, it helps us find promising talent. And you, Peter, have promise."

"Yeah, so much you gave the prize to someone else."

"Well, we can't make it that obvious. Besides, we wanted to see what your story was." She wandered across the white tile to a computer monitor in the wall. Without even using a keyboard, she pressed the screen and text and images began flying across. "You were always gifted in math and science, did well in the subjects in school, even sat your A-levels. Could have done uni if you wanted. But you didn't. Why not?"

Was his life an open book to this strange woman and her weird machines? He glared at the offending screen first, then at her, feeling his pale cheeks burn slightly. "Couldn't afford it, right? Problem with that?"

"No," she replied without bothering to look at him. "I see here you've done the odd job, catch as catch can. Not exactly the sort I would think would settle down with a wife." She finally glanced over her shoulder at him speculatively. "Though you are fit enough. I can see why the ladies like you."

"Alright, enough! You've had your fun and games and leave Jackie out of this." This stranger had trodden on one of his sacred cows, whether he was being good enough for his wife. "She's a good woman, deserves a lot better than me, that's for sure. And I don't care what that stupid machine there says, I never have cheated on her."

"I'm not one to judge." Yvonne's gaze swept him up and down for a long moment. Pete had a feeling that she rather wished he did step out on Jackie. "Besides, she will suit perfectly for what we want."

"Let's not bring Jackie into...whatever this...is." Pete waved his arms wildly around him. "I'm not even sure what this is. What is it you want me doing?"

"I told you, we want you to spy," Yvonne replied patiently.

"But how?"

"Simple," she turned back to the screen. "What's the one thing you want more than anything, Peter?"

His patience was wearing thin, but he humored the strange woman anyway. "To be able to do things right. To support my wife and show her I'm a real man who can take care of his family."

"Not really," Yvonne murmured, still reading whatever was in front of her. "Let's be honest with ourselves, Peter. You don't want to be a real man. You want to be a great man. A man who is taken seriously, not thought of as a gad about who can't grow up. You want to show people you know your product, you know your business, and you know how to make things people would like."

"Yeah." He shrugged, wondering why that was in any way particularly different from what he had told her. "I wouldn't mind, you know, having a business of my own, doing the type of things I'd want to do."

"Like Vitex?"

"Well, maybe, sure, why not? I mean, the stuff they got me selling tastes like horse piss. They could do so much better with it."

"It's not horse piss, no, but judging from the chemical make up, I'd not drink it myself." Yvonne made a face, turning away from her screen. "I'm fairly certain some of those added minerals are toxic in high enough doses."

"What? You have analyzed it?"

"Of course, and don't drink it, Peter, that stuff might kill you. You have ideas for it, right?"

Too gobsmacked by the idea they had actually analyzed the stuff and half afraid to know what was in it, he nodded vaguely. "Yeah, I mean I had ideas to make it taste better, get more flavors, maybe add things like electrolytes, like those sports drinks, or maybe mineral water."

"Sounds brilliant. So, when would you like to start doing that?"

What was she going on about? "What you mean, start? I don't know, couple of years, when I make enough to buy the rights?"

Yvonne acted as if she hadn't heard him. "How about next week? I think our lawyers can finalize all of it by then. And well, then it's the investors and more lawyers, that bit will get complicated, but I'm sure given two months, we could get the new and improved Pete Tyler Vitex into production. And of course, advertising. You'd be a great pitch man, you know."

She might as well have been speaking Greek for all the sense she was making. "Wait, hang on. What in the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Vitex, Peter. I thought that much was clear. Your new company."

He stared at the woman, who looked barely out of uni, talking about spying and aliens and technology and making him the head of Vitex. He wondered vaguely if he wasn't mad. Maybe Jackie had clocked him in the head with her shoe as he stormed out and this was all his dream as he lay sprawled on the floor. "I don't own Vitex."

"You will tomorrow." Yvonne uttered it as if it was as sure as the sun rising and just as cheerful. "Torchwood is interested in you, Peter. We want to make you our man on the inside as it were, our spy. The best way to do that is to make you one of the boys, one of the elite circle who run British industry. Get to know them, become their pal, make deals, get involved in their business. Let us know what you find out."

He really had to be dreaming this, or he had to be insane. "And it's that simple? Like...some fairy godmother? You and your Torchwood, you come in, you buy me a company. Just like that?"

"Just like that," Yvonne replied. There was something of the predator in this woman in her no-fuss suit and her cool, pulled back hair. Nothing about Yvonne Hartman screamed attractive in the way he'd come to know it. No overdone hair and makeup, no cheap, tight clothes. But he supposed she was pretty enough. She was certainly into him, judging by the way her gazed flickered over him once more, as a slow smile spread across her face. He felt uncomfortably like a tiny mouse standing before a giant lioness, knowing that in about five seconds she would swallow him whole, if he let her.

"And all I got to do is just...spy on these fat cats for you. That's it?"

"That's all you have to do."

She didn't look like the devil. Frankly, she looked like a girl who had just got done with school and was trying to seduce her old tutor. But something about this all rang far too good to be true. But he thought of Jackie back home in their hole of a flat, in the dingy estates, crying her eyes out and wanting something better for her life. And he wanted something better for her too. This could give them everything they wanted. He could have his dream. She could have a husband to be proud of and a life of ease. It could be everything they wanted.

"Yeah, alright." He said it so casually, perhaps cockily, earning a pleased grin from the woman in front of him. "We got a deal?"

"Of course." She held out her cool hand, shaking his own firmly. "I'm so pleased you could come on board, Peter."

That had been the start. Not that overnight things changed for him and Jacks, no. In fact, she spent the better part of the next two weeks scoffing at him. He hadn't told her the Torchwood angle, of course, Jackie would never keep her mouth shut on that sort of thing. But he told her he'd had some investors interested in helping him buy Vitex, and she had laughed in his face and said she'd believe it when they had money in their account to pay rent. Another two months later, she wasn't laughing anymore. Vitex was off the ground with Pete as the majority stockholder and they were out of the Estate and into a posh place in the city. Vitex was taking the country by storm and suddenly Pete's ugly mug was on billboards and buses, and every time he wandered into a pub to watch a match, someone would mention how he looked like the bloke selling the vitamin drink that they saw on some advert. Soon, the quiet life of Pete Tyler, with its bowling and beer and occasionally a band, went the way of the public. He was suddenly the CEO of a company that had taken the soft drink world by storm and now sold everything from vitamin waters to power bars. It even sponsored sporting teams and had a race car. The posh place in the city turned into an estate in the countryside. Now paparazzi followed them everywhere, interested in the minutest details of their life. And Jackie, for her part, reveled in the attention, even as Pete longed for the days when the pair of them were nothing more than a faceless couple in a crowd.

And as wonderful as things became, it changed them too. He hadn't wanted to admit it, not for a long time. He loved Jacks. He loved that he could do these things for her. But just as the lack of money strained their marriage once, so too did the surfeit of it. They both changed for the worse. Jackie becoming superficial and vain, concerned more with overcoming her chavvy background and being accepted by polite society than staying true to herself. And for Pete, now the head of a diversified, multinational corporation growing faster than he could keep up with, work became his life and passion. Each hurt by the changes in the other, they retreated into their separate worlds; Jackie to parties and dinners, Pete to boardrooms and offices. And one day, many years later, they both woke up to realize they were leading two separate lives, far apart from one another.

And then there was Torchwood. He never mentioned that.

The end came with more of a whimper than an explosion. Jackie, sitting at breakfast as servants waited on her hand and foot, reading the tabs, fussing that he hadn't made it to yet another of her society parties. Pete had tuned her out for the most part, busy reading through his emails. It was only when she tossed a piece of buttered toast at his nose that he looked up and saw the tears in her eyes. She'd been talking to him for fifteen minutes and he hadn't even been listening. And all the pleading and apologizing in the world couldn't stop her from sobbing and storming out, off to what had been their shared bedroom before he took to sleeping in his home office of a night. He'd felt guilty of course, had thought about going up to console her, to assure her that he loved her, but had no desire to tangle with Hurricane Jackie first thing in the morning. Instead, he finished his coffee, gathered his things, and reasoned it would all blow over by dinner time.

At midday he received the divorce papers from an attorney that Jackie had hired. He'd been too properly shocked to say anything, stunned Jackie would actually go through it. He'd talk to her, work it all out. He told Miles so, even as the other man said nothing and shot him quiet, pitying looks. He'd begged and pleaded, but Jacks had remained sadly firm on the matter. Oh, of course, they would keep things hush hush, for the sake of appearances and Vitex. He had sold that to John Lumic two years before, but Pete was still the face of the brand. It wouldn't do to have rumor run rampant. When the time was right, they would reveal it to the world, tell everyone they would remain friends, and move on. It was for the best, after all. They were different people.

Pete bought his apartment in the city, fully furnished, not that he cared what it looked like. He moved his things from the estate, set up shop there. It was convenient enough, he supposed, and yes, the artwork was drab, the place cold and austere and terribly lonely. And it had no Jackie. And he hated to admit it, despite the drama and the distance, he loved her. Always had. And he wished in that moment he had never said yes to Yvonne Hartman.

The man staring at his reflection in the mirror looked far older even than his fifty-three years. Steam began to blur the edges, and he blinked, realizing that the shower by now was ready, and he had things to do and people to see. Pete Tyler, Vitex businessman, Torchwood spy, the man you could trust.

Frankly, he couldn't even trust himself anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

He smiled. He laughed. He charmed Sherry Wexler. He was honest, reliable Pete Tyler, the man whose drinks made you healthy and kept you trim, a titan of industry in that he had taken a no-name, rubbish tonic and turned it into an empire, while at his heart staying a humble man who loved his beer and his wife. He played his part, grinning and gaping the whole time. And the minute he was outside of the BBC studio, the facade faded. Miles stood outside waiting. His PA handed him a Vitex without a word.

"God, those things are such rubbish. Why do I have to do them?"

"Your agreement with Lumic. You'd remain the face and sell the brand, man the day-to-day operations, and dance like a monkey if he required. That's why."

Pete glared over at his assistant but said nothing. He may be a prat, but Miles was usually spot on in his sarcasm. "Price I pay for selling out, eh?"

Miles shrugged. He was a good company man, Miles was, and by company, Pete really meant Torchwood. Pete had asked no questions when Yvonne Hartman had assigned the talented and acerbic Miles to serve as his personal assistant, though he did think it was odd that a man who clearly had been trained to field work would be assigned to fetch him coffee and schedule his calendar. There was no denying Miles was efficient at it, brutally so, manning his insane schedule like a field commander. Pete had no doubt that should something truly dangerous occur to him, Miles could handle that too, despite the neatly gelled and dressed figure he cut.

"I sold out because that's what I was told to do." Pete wasn't sure why he felt the need to defend himself. Miles didn't particularly care. But it had stung, selling Vitex. Sure, he hadn't built up the company himself, that had all been Torchwood. For all they kept up their public face of being a technological research facility, putting out mind numbing studies and reports on a regular basis, behind the scenes they moved adeptly, and much of Vitex's rise was due to that adroitness. But he had still shepherded much of it. The company face, the direction, the major decisions had all been his. The company was his baby. And yet, he'd been forced to give it up for Torchwoods bigger agenda. They had made him, he supposed, and they could easily destroy him. And so he went along with it.

"Ours is not to reason why, sir, just do or...be killed or something." Miles barely looked up from the phone in his hand, scrolling up and down the interface, frowning at it in consternation over his thick,black-framed glasses.

"You have a phone?" Pete frowned at the device in his PA's hand.

"Yes, sir, it's how I keep track of your ridiculous schedule."

"Where are your earpods?"

Miles barely blinked up from what he was doing. "I broke one yesterday, I've put in a requisition to get a new pair."

"Broke? Do I want to know how?"

"Likely not, sir, unless you really desire a lecture on the mating habits of the Xanthian puffer fish."

"Is that alien?"

"Yes," Miles replied, holding out his phone. "Your wife called."

Pete stared at the device, unsure of whether to be excited by this or not. It could be hit or miss with Jacks. "What's she want?"

Impatience flickered across Miles' face. "Since I haven't listened to her dulcet tones screaming on my voicemail, I don't know. Why don't you call her and find out?"

"What good are you to me then," Pete muttered, taking the phone and dialing back the number.

"I'd take a bullet for you, sir, but there are lines even I won't cross."

"Right," Pete murmured, waiting for the distinct sound of the line ringing through. Jackie of course would have her pods on, she practically lived with them in. Sure enough, she picked up on the first ring.

"What," she snapped, delightful as ever.

"You called?" Pete didn't bother introducing himself. In the background he could hear the sounds of plates clattering and the bustle of movement. Obviously the party arrangers were there already.

Jackie's tone softened only a little, growling now instead of outright snapping. "You are planning to be here this afternoon, right? I've got too much going on and you told me you'd be here."

"Said I would, Jacks." He could see Miles shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

"We have two-hundred guests and the heads of state of three countries coming tonight, Pete, and you can't just fob me off with work."

"Of course not, sweetheart. It's your fortieth birthday!"

"Thirty-nine," she hissed. "My biography says thirty-nine."

That stupid biography. He bit back a curse, smiling tightly instead. "Jacks, I said I'd be there and I will."

"Right. And I hope you got me something good this year. Not like the private cooking lessons last year."

"I set you up with the President's private chef, Jacks." He'd ever heard the end of that _faux paux_. He'd thought it would be something fun to do together. She'd taken it as an insult to both her cooking and her sensibilities. What else did they have a private chef for? She could use her own if she wanted to know how to make a cuppa. And where was the private zeppelin she always wanted?

"Yeah, well, at least you made it up with the new Lexus. Now, be here at three o'clock. The official photographer will be here and I want you looking sharp and not like you just stumbled out of a booze up with your boardroom."

He felt his shoulders slump in defeat. "Yeah. I'll be there."

"Good." There was a crash and Jackie swore loudly in a way that would likely shock the likes of Sherry Wexler. "I've got to go. The idiots we've hired just knocked over one of the arrangements. Thousands of pounds, down the drain!" Without preamble she clicked off, leaving Pete holding the phone to his ear in silence.

Miles merely held out his hand. "Still think the pink, mink slippers are a good idea?"

Pete sighed, handing over the phone to him, scrubbing at his face. "Jacks wants me there early to take publicity shots or some such."

"Whinging for a zepplin, yet?" Miles delighted in complaining about Jackie. They'd never gotten on, not since he'd first appeared at the house and had Jackie shrieking at him about coming to do work when she had a personal tennis arrangement for them with the pairs who'd won Wimbledon. The fact that Miles told her that she could shove her and her Wimbledon pair up her arse and he could help her with it likely didn't endear him to her either and neither had Pete's refusal to fire him when she'd stormed into his office, outraged. The two had existed for some time now in a state of _detente_ , choosing not to acknowledge the others existence while snipping about them when they weren't there.

"Something like that." Pete sighed, glancing at his watch. "Let's get this meeting with Yvonne done before I head out to face the beast?"

"That description could go either way, you know," Miles mumbled, earning another sharp look from Pete, for which Miles was completely unapologetic.

Torchwood Tower sat on the other side of town, a giant glass monstrosity, barely finished when he first had come to Canary Wharf years ago. Emblazoned over its chrome and glass doors was the stately emblem of the Torchwood Institute, a symbol of the old guard, the world that had been before. Established by Queen Victoria as one of her final acts, Torchwood as far as the world was concerned carried out a mandate for research on behalf of the British people, though many murmured they were merely a front for MI-5. It was closer to the truth than any of them would like. Torchwood likely would be offended at being associated with MI-5. Pete wasn't, in all honesty. He was a spy. That's what they did, ensuring that no alien threat or technology got so far out of hand that it would threaten the peace and stability of the British Republic. And sitting at the very head of the entire mechanism was the woman who had turned his world upside down so long ago.

"Mr. Tyler! Here to see Dr. Hartman?"

Pete nodded at the pretty secretary behind the sleek, modern desk. "The usual."

The brunette smiled and rose, leading him into the large, plush office Yvonne had claimed as her own since taking leadership of the institute ten years before. She'd been bucking for it for a while, a shoe in most said. She'd been with the Institute since she was still in her university days, one of the best and the brightest. Pete didn't know about that, but he was certain that Yvonne Hartman was perhaps one of their most driven and focused and the most ruthless. Clearly, she had no qualms about making the hard decisions when it came down to what she thought was her personal mandate, not just the Torchwood's, to protect Great Britain from all threats. She stood behind her desk, another sleek glass and chrome edifice, one that suited Yvonne's cool and deliberate sensibilities. She looked as if she was merely gazing out of the window across the landscape of London, looking down on the Thames out of boredom, but in fact he could hear her holding one half of what sounded like a friendly conversation.

"Yes...yes, that's right. I had to order it. Because the Russian Prime Minister worried for the Tzar and his family's life, and as one of the last royal families in the world, they rather are a national treasure. Yes, well, I know how we feel about that sort of thing, but let the Russian cling to their dark corner of the world. They were barely into the Industrial Revolution, after all, and if we hadn't stepped in they'd be a screwed, and who'd clean up the mess? We need to get more resources in there? Work with their private sector, else there will be trouble. I know the imperial family is amenable, they've been reaching out for years, but you know, distrust of royalty in this day and age. Right?"

She turned ever so slightly, noticing Pete as he settled himself into one of her white, leather chairs, waiting expectantly and pretending not to listen. She smiled dazzlingly at him, even as she continued to speak."

"Well, I have to let you go, Mr. President. It's been such a pleasure catching up with you, but I have someone here to see me now. Do stop by sometime and do lunch? Yes? All right, I'll have out assistants connect. Mmmm...yes, it's been good talking to you as well. Goodbye!"

With a flick of one of her manicured nails, the blue light of her ear pod turned off, and she sighed. "The man could talk for England if given half a chance."

"It's why we elected him President, isn't it?" Pete smiled blandly, knowing Yvonne would titter inanely at the joke. She obliged, grinning at him as she shook her blonde hair, blown and styled artfully today. Yvonne had graduated from the "oh-so-serious" look of a uni student trying to show off, to the suits and glamorous look of a power broker. Unlike Jackie, the change suited her. Yvonne always had been able to make the hard decisions.

"Peter, you are funny. That's why I always liked you."

"I do have the charm," he conceded, knowing she would eat it up. That Yvonne had a fancy for him was like saying that the Thames was a river. She'd made it plain from their first meeting that she was interested should he ever tire of Jackie. After all she was everything Jackie wasn't; intelligent, educated, powerful, and well-bred. Which was precisely why he had stayed away from the likes of Yvonne. He had a feeling that a woman as smart and powerful as she was would see Pete as more an asset than a lover. When it came down to brass tacks, Pete would be expendable. Jackie, for all of her other failings, was at least loyal. Well...he used to believe she was.

"The President mentioned that he's going to your wife's birthday party." She uttered the term "wife" like one might say "shit".

"He's on the invite list, yeah. So are the Presidents of France and Italy."

"Close, personal friends of Jackie's, I suppose?" One perfect eyebrow arched knowingly and in a way that caused Pete's jaw to clench.

"They are friends. We've had business with them. Business I might remind you that you send me on? I was supposed to be making nice with them regarding the European Free Trade Zone, getting us access to their national production reports."

"I remember," Yvonne murmured, not at all apologetic. "Still, business, pleasure...come on, Peter! Why do you indulge that woman and her childish demands?"

"Because she's my wife," he said simply and emphatically.

It wasn't the answer Yvonne wanted to hear. She scowled, her jaw hardening as she shifted from temptress to tyrant in the blink of an eye. "Well, if you have time to give lavish parties for your soon to be ex, then you have time to do the work that has afforded you that lifestyle."

She moved from her view to slip into her elegant office chair, calling up his files on the touchscreen tablet sitting on her desk. Pleasure had given way to business, for which Pete was eternally glad. "Lumic has me busy. Since I sold Vitex to him, he's got me running a majority of the face time for it, not to mention keeping tabs on a lot of his other corporate interest. I've been mostly busy with the CyberNet project, particularly the media downloads to the earpods he developed."

"So I noticed," Yvonne murmured, scanning quickly through his reports. "Lumic is leaving a lot in your hands it seems. Why?"

"Part of it is his health."

"That part is true then?" She looked up at him, curious.

Pete nodded. "The cancer spread. It's only his advanced medical technology that's keeping him alive."

"But he keeps sending out messages over CyberNet?"

"He's dying, not dead yet. He's been busy with something, some secret project of his, very hush, hush, won't even tell me about it."

A frown formed between Yvonne's perfectly sculpted brows as she considered this. "You've not been able to discover anything?"

"Not for lack of trying," Pete replied. "I've combed through the files I can get to. And I've been using the Preacher's skills to see what they can hack into."

"The Preachers?" She looked confused for the briefest of moments. "Oh, yes, your vigilante group." She stopped short of being truly condescending.

Pete grimaced. "They aren't a vigilante group. They are an anarchist society standing against the wrongs caused by modern industry."

"Right! Anarchist, vigilante, what have you. You don't find it ironic that you, an upstanding member of said industrial society, are fostering a group of rabble-rousing malcontents?"

"No," Pete replied, honestly. If anything, he found it vaguely funny. Perhaps that's why he used the code name "Gemini" with them. It spoke to the split nature of his world. Pete Tyler, whose face was plastered all over London, working with a group of revolutionaries, mostly angry kids, who thought they were giving a finger to the man and sticking it to him. In truth, perhaps it was because he missed those good old days when he was just one of the guys. Besides, as an insider and a spy, he knew the dirty rotten side of the world that gave his wife lavish birthday parties on her fortieth birthday, a side that he heartily wished he could do something about.

"The Preachers have been able to do the things I haven't been able to do. They can use the information I give them in ways that I can't. In exchange, they feed back to me with what they find."

"And they've found nothing on Lumic's plans?"

"Not much. I am guessing it's mostly medical experiments judging from the evidence I have found. But Lumic is supposed to be back in a few days. I imagine he will want to see me."

"Right." Yvonne glanced at the file curtly, before closing it, turning to regard him fully. "When he does, drop whatever you are doing and meet with him."

Not an unusual request, for sure, but still it surprised Pete when they had so little to go on. "Why?"

Yvonne's mouth pursed hard. The way it did when she was debating on whether it was wise or not to tell him the truth. She didn't need to. It clicked so loudly in his head, he could nearly hear it in his ears. "Whatever he's up to, Torchwood has allowed it."

"We encouraged, not allowed," she replied tartly, though that didn't stop the shifty flicker of her eyes towards the city-scape outside. "Under my predecessor, John Lumic was given an unprecedented amount of access to a level of technology that was far advanced."

"That's where he got his steel." It was all starting to make a disturbing amount of sense to Pete and he wasn't liking the picture that was being painted.

"Not just that, but yes. Technology of all sorts, but yes, his steel, which of course was essential in the building of the zeppelins. Lumic was given _carte blanche_ to a great deal of information. The earpods for example." She fingered the one in her right ear. "Technology that was scavenged off of half a dozen alien items by Lumic's research team."

Pete felt his own pods itch in his ears. "You just let them have free reign?"

"I didn't, no." She defended herself, eyes narrowing, before distaste and frustration flickered across her face. "John Lumic is well connected with very deep pockets. For years, whatever he has wanted, he has got, and that included Torchwood. And now we are seeing the consequences."

"That's why you put me on his detail." Pete grimaced, seeing just how much of his life had been twisted and spun by Torchwood. He couldn't say anything to that, however. He had agreed to it. "You needed an inside man to see just how fast and free he was running."

"Lumic has been notoriously secretive about what he got and what he's doing with it. That's why we maneuvered Vitex into his personal arsenal, because we knew he'd come to like you, trust you, and want to use your talent. Everyone knew Lumic was dying, that he'd have to put someone in charge to help him run things. You were ideal."

That he was. There was no denying it. And Pete couldn't cry wolf, not when he had agreed to that arrangement himself. "Lumic only trusts me so far. He has his own plans and schemes, I see glimpses. You think what he's doing has something to do with what he had access too?"

Yvonne replied by passing the tablet over to him. On it was a picture of a robot, the sort you saw in the old, "B" Hollywood films he'd watched as a kid. Whatever it was, it wasn't working, but he had a feeling that if Torchwood had their hands on it, it had at one point.

"What, a giant robot?" He passed the tablet back. "Lumic's got an entire division that does nothing but robots. Got some that can hold trays and play footie."

"Not just a robot." She stared at the tablet for long moments. "It was found in America in 1947, it and about ten others, in some sort of ship. Scared the locals, but did very little harm. We obtained two of the specimens for research from the American military. As far as we can tell, these creatures aren't robots."

Pete laughed. "What are they then?"

"Humans." She replied.

Pete sobered instantly. "You can't be serious."

"Human and not from this universe." She continued, her expression grim. "DNA sampling actually turned up one of them as being a man who was perfectly alive and living in Vancouver, healthy and hale. But his brain was in this machine and had been for some time."

"A twin?" Pete struggled to find some reason to account for it.

"Single human birth, he had no twin." She watched him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to accept what frankly sounded like science fiction. But so had most things in his life at one point.

"Another universe?' Pete's brain couldn't quite wrap itself around that. "You aren't joking, are you?"

"Even our scientist believe it's possible, Peter, just no one has found evidence of it. Except for this."

Pete had seen many things while working at Torchwood. Aliens, spaceships, wonder drugs...but another universe? "And Lumic knows about it?"

"Yes," she replied tersely. "You can see why, with his current health condition, we'd be worried about this technology."

"So, you what, let Lumic just muck about with something from another universe?" Pete threw himself of of the leather chair, brain spinning as he glared at the ever-present zeppelins clogging the clear skies of London. He had always known it was a careful dance Torchwood played, denying the existence of extraterrestrials with one hand, while fostering out evidence thereof to those they found worthy enough to let in on the secret. Some had played the game better than most. What disturbed him was how fast and loose John Lumic was let on things that no one kept an eye on. Not that Lumic had done anything, as far as Pete could tell, that was remotely illegal. But Torchwood wouldn't have placed him at Lumic's side if they didn't fear him. He glanced back at Yvonne, who watched him impassively.

"You think he's trying to make more of those, then?"

"He's dying, isn't he?" She lifted a shoulder matter-of-factually. "Some reports say he should have died ages ago, but he's too damned stubborn to do it. And if you had a mind like Lumic's, one that could turn out half the wonders he has with used, broken bits of alien junk, and make as much money off of it as he has, do you think you'd be content with just letting your body fail you?"

"So he's going to try and run it for himself?"

"Like as not, though he'd have to get permission to even attempt it. And he'd need the backing of a major world government to do that."

Pete eyes narrowed as he considered. "You don't think Britain will agree to it?"

Yvonne smiled sweetly. "Why do you think I was just on the phone with the President."

"Ah," he nodded, not surprised. "And you want me to..."

"Do what you've always done, Peter." She smiled shifted, teasing. "Pull out the charm and the obsequiousness. Earn his trust, see what he's planning. Let us know when you do."

Pete glanced back out the window, at one of the giant zeppelins floating lazily outside the window. Robots with human brains from another universe. What in the hell had anyone from Torchwood been thinking.

"What if he is doing something and it's illegal? How we going to stop him?" Pete's eyes slid to Yvonne.

"Torchwood has contingency plans for such things." She hardly looked perturbed by the idea. But Pete could still see the flicker of worry in her eyes, even as she hid it with her bright, inviting smile. "All we need from you, Pete, is information."

Right. As simple as that. Pete's gut churned with the feeling this was all going to go pear shaped. After all, if Torchwood had let Lumic run roughshod on them so far, what was to say they could stop him even if they wanted to?

"No worries, Peter!" She rose, crossing to where he stood, patting his cheek with a fondness that was both patronizing and invasive. "Do your job, all will be well. Maybe your wife can get the zeppelin she wants. And after you've met with Lumic, come chat with me over dinner to have a debrief. Maybe 7 Park Place? You and me? Just the two of us?"

There was no mistaking the invitation in her eyes as she let one, manicured nail trail down his jaw. "And you can tell me how things are going with your divorce."

"Right," he murmured, pulling away with as impassive a look as he could manage. "Off to do my duty for my country and all that, right?"

"If that's what it takes to keep Jackie happy, I suppose." She smirked. She knew that wasn't what he meant, but she couldn't help one last dig. He chose to ignore it as he turned on his heels, removing himself with as much haste as he dared, biting back the curse that mentally was repeating itself, loudly. What was the old saying? One man, two women, trouble? Caught between a shrew and a panther and one of them was going to be the death of him.

And now there was Lumic.

Miles sat quietly outside of the office, flipping through a tablet, only looking up when Pete marched past him. Without a word he fell in step, wisely waiting till they were out of the receptionists earshot. "So, what does the Iron Lady want from you now?"

What didn't she want? Peter wanted to laugh, but couldn't bring himself to do it. "I want you to get a hold of the Preachers, whoever that woman is, Moore, the one that babysits them. I need intel on what they've found out."

"Yes, sir," Miles murmured quietly.

"Get on that. I'm taking the car, driving out home myself. If I've faced one dragon today, I can face another." He scowled darkly at nothing in particular. "Make sure the slippers get to Jackie in time for the party, right?"

For once, Miles wisely held back any smart response.


	4. Chapter 4

Pete had never been as fond of the estate as Jackie had. It was nice enough, he supposed, one of the old houses that had belonged to one of the aristocrats back in the day. Not that the peerage had gone completely the way of the monarchy. You could still find the random hereditary lord or lady still living in their ancestral mansion, but increased income taxes on the wealthy, coupled with growing inflation, meant that the upkeep of most of these old palaces of the gentry soon outreached even what they could afford. Most of the peerage had sold up when land prices went sky high, taking the money to invest in expensive townhomes in the city and make themselves rich in the new regime of business. Many of the old estates were gone now, made into hotels or torn down for housing developments, but this one had been renovated and owned by various titans of industry until Jackie fell in love with it fifteen years ago. She of course had spared no expense in making it her "dream" home, with fine paneling and marble floors, and Pete had let her have at it indulgently, though privately wishing she'd have been content with their expensive townhouse in the city. This house just never felt like home.

Gravel crunched under his tires as he pulled into the private drive, already filled with catering vans and delivery trucks. He could feel the blood pressure rising steadily despite himself. For all that Jackie was just as chavvy as he was when it came down to it, she took to the life of the rich like a duck to water and became a celebrity in the media for nothing more than liking to spend money and throwing a party. And admittedly, she was good at it. Jacks had taste, or at least the media thought she had taste, they certainly gave her enough talk shows and magazine articles to talk about it, and the tabloids loved to note with detail the type of fabric she used to redecorate her sitting room and the flowers she purchased for her latest dinner party. Pete merely quietly transferred money into her account and said nothing, even as he heartily wished he never had to look at another swath of silk or bottle of Cristal ever again.

Just as predicted, the house was in chaos. Servants ran through rooms, carrying vases and linens, orders being barked from some sort of party organizer. He shifted the flowers he had in hand, looking for his wife. "Hello? Sweetheart? Only me!"

He wondered if Jackie could even hear him over the noise, but he shouldn't have been surprised. The woman had the ears of a bat, even with the earpods on, and he could see her gliding down the stairs, a grimace already on her pretty face. He steeled himself, wondering what he had possibly done now.

"Oh, the bad penny," she sneered, even as Pete felt his heart twist at the accusation. "Was this your idea? Don't deny it. It's got your fingerprints all over it. Trust me on this. Oh, I can trust you all right. Trust you to cock it up!"

On any given day anymore it could be anything that set Jacks off. It was even odds as to what today's might have been. "What have I done now?"

"Have a look," she ordered, pointing to the drawing room. Between two large pillars hung a sign that read "Happy 40th birthday!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Forty! It says forty!" She threw up her hands in exasperation.

"You are forty," he repeated, knowing exactly where this argument was going.

"Well, I don't want the whole world telling, do I?"

He had long ago give up on trying to find any rational in Jackie's reasoning, and so simply accepted his fault in all of this with a sigh. "You're having a party tonight."

"My thirty-ninth," she countered. "My official biography says I was born on the same day as Cuba Gooding Junior, and that makes me thirty-nine, thank you very much. Rose!"

He realized as she called for her infernal dog that this was one of those moments he just wasn't going to win. Instead he held out the cellophane wrapped flowers as something of a peace offering. "These are from the girls at office. Happy birthday!"

In older, happier days, Jacks would have been pleased at the thoughtful gesture, even if they were just plain old flowers from the market. Now, her lip curled in mild disgust as she barely glanced at them. "I've got hand sculpted arrangements by Veronica of Reykjavik and your secretary stopped off at a garage? I don't think so. And if you're giving out presents, where's my zeppelin? Everyone else has got one."

What little was left of his self-esteem ran off to hide as he tried to think of a polite way of telling her he wasn't getting her any bleeding zeppelin because he hated the things, but his already mangled manhood just couldn't seem to manage it.

"Rose, come on!" Jackie glared up the stairs impatiently before shooting Pete another exasperated glare. "Look, you didn't even notice, did you? Special delivery. Got sent round today."

One of her glossy nails brushed against an earpod, beautifully set with diamonds. And he knew it wasn't a gift from him.

"Birthday present from Mr. Lumic. Latest model, picks up signals from Venezuela," Jackie breezed, preening slightly at what was obviously an expensive gift from his boss. Well, his other boss. Not that Lumic sending expensive gifts was unusual, he made a habit of repaying Pete's hard work with all manner of expensive items. But he thought of his simple gift, meant to recall a happier time, and he inwardly cringed.

"Why would you want to pick up signals from Venezuela?"

"Well, I don't know, but now I can find out," Jackie groused impatiently. "For God's sake, where is she? She needs a good bath before tonight. She's going to be honking. Rose! Come to mummy!"

On the landing above him the sound of little claws clicking against fine parquet. A set of bright, dark eyes peeked out over the stairs, lost in a ball of fluffy fur.

"Come on! There you are, my darling!" Cooing, Jackie met the dog on the stairs, scooping it up for cuddles and affection. It was about the only thing she showed affection to, anymore. Certainly wasn't him.

The earpods sounded before any further dark thoughts regarding Jackie and her puppy could surface. The feed told him it was Lumic. Surprising, he hadn't expected to hear from him for a few days. Flipping them on, he slapped on a cheery smile that he in no way felt.

"Mister Lumic! Jackie was just saying thank you! That's very kind of you!"

The deep, gravel voice of the man who now owned his business sounded through his brain, rattling, but polite. "Those earpods are hand made. Tell her to take care."

"Course I will, course I will," Pete assured him, glancing up the stairs as Jackie ascended with the terrier in tow. "I don't suppose you'll be joining us for the party? We'd be very honored!"

They'd already extended an unanswered invitation to Lumic, but he'd been ill and Pete hadn't pressed. Still, it was only polite he make the effort, let the old man know that he was appreciative, perhaps see what he was like around people for once. God knew when the last time he had actually seen Lumic at an event was. That was what he had kept Pete around for, after all, to be the face at these functions that he no longer could attend.

"The world below can party," Lumic muttered dourly. "Some of us have work to do. My plans have advanced, Peter! The President has promised a decision. I'm flying in now. We'll be at the airstrip at five o'clock."

A decision? Pete frowned. That soon? "Right...it's just that I promised I'd help the wife out tonight."

Lumic was hardly sympathetic. "If the President of Great Britain can make this meeting, then so can you."

Pete thought of Jackie upstairs and wondered on that. "Oh, I don't know. He's not married to Jackie, is he?"

"Five o'clock, Mr. Tyler," Lumic responded firmly. "Famous day."

The line went silent as an image of the strange, robot men that Yvonne had shown him came to mind. Plans were moving quicker than even she had anticipated. Dread curdled inside, both at the thought of just what Lumic was up to and at the idea of having to tell Jackie he had to go and meet him. He rather wished he hadn't gotten out of bed that morning.

Like a man going to the scaffold, he took the stairs slowly, avoiding a young woman in black cargo pants and a dark t-shirt teetering precariously with a large vase of exotic flowers in hand. Down the way from the ornate, antique table that sat at the top he could hear one of the staff cooing to what he assumed was the dog, trying to coax it into the bath. Good luck, he thought dryly. The dog, a present to Jackie on a birthday several years ago, was as spoiled as her mistress was. She got more love and affection than he'd received in the last six years. He'd gotten it for Jacks in the hopes that she might want to eventually think about having a child. They'd wanted kids, once upon a time. But instead of encouraging any motherly instincts, it had simply suppressed them. Why bother with a baby when they had Rose? Besides, she had said, they were both so busy. A baby was work, and she didn't want to hire extra staff to feed and take care of it. And she had her figure to think of, a baby would ruin all of that. And so Pete had given in, just as he always did, all thoughts of a son to teach footie to or a daughter to have as the apple of his eye, gone. Perhaps the worst irony was that Jackie had gone and named the furrball Rose. They'd always talked of naming a daughter that. Now, that was the closest thing he'd get to one, a dog who hated him and loved Jackie. Perhaps, in the end, it was appropriate.

He found his wife in what had been their shared room, until recently, sitting at her vanity checking her make up. She barely noticed as he walked up behind her, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched her. She was still pretty, even if it was in a more glamorous and less chavvy sort of way. The platinum blonde had never gone away. She had told him once it was her signature, hence why she kept it, but now she paired it with silks and gemstones rather than tracksuits. He smiled at her as she primped, remembering fondly how she used to do the same thing in their old estate flat, meticulously slathering on product and spending hours just getting herself ready just to go bowling.

"What you laughing at?" She frowned crossly, glaring at him from her dressing table mirror.

"Nothing," he insisted, still grinning soppily. "Just remembering back in the day how you used to take forever just to go out to the pub or bowling."

"Oh, that." She waved it away with a flicker of a powder brush. "That was forever ago, Pete. What in the world made you think of that?"

"I don't know. Guess I'm missing the old days lately." He pulled his right hand from his pocket to tug lightly at a curl that had come loose from her hair. "Our old flat. The old gang. Do you ever hear from them anymore?"

"That group of tossers?" She sniffed, shaking her head. "The moment you got big, they all thought you were the Bank of England, remember? Glad to be rid of them. Nothing but dead weight."

"Not all of them were, though." Pete recalled most of them had been happy to see good old, lovable loser Pete Tyler's fortunes rise. A few of them he'd tried to help out as he could, getting them jobs and such. Some made it out all right, others didn't.

"You ever talk to them?" Jackie eyed him curiously in the mirror.

"No, I never." He sighed, trailing a finger down her hair to the soft skin of her neck. He could see her shiver at the movement, exasperation flickering to light in her blue eyes. "Don't you ever miss the way things used to be. The way we used to be?"

"Pete, don't you start. Not today." She pulled away from his touch, busying herself with cosmetics that he knew she had no intention of putting on. "We have a photographer here in twenty minutes and far too much to do."

"I don't know, twenty minutes, gives us plenty of time to…"

"Stop!" She cut him off, glaring up at his suggestive grin, mingled irritation and amusement on her face. "Just...Pete, not today. We promised no more of this, we can't just...I can't keep doing this?"

The hurt in her voice was enough to break his heart. Jackie so rarely opened up to him anymore, hiding herself behind a shield of anger all the time. "Jacks, I've not hidden how I still feel for you."

"I know, Pete. But that's the problem. This isn't about feelings. It's about our relationship. And we can't just keep doing this, having these larks, promising ourselves this is it, and then falling into bed together, knowing that it's all a lie." Tears glazed her eyes as she blinked up at him. "It's not healthy. That's what my therapist said."

Her therapist? She could talk to the therapist but not him. He held back the growl brewing in his chest, clenching his fist tightly as he shoved it back into his trouser pocket. "Jacks, I love you. You know that."

"It's not about love. It's about the fact that we are two separate people, Pete." She sighed, pushing herself up to stand in front of him, sadly. "I love you too. But we don't work. Not anymore. You've got your business and Mr. Lumic to look after. And I have all these things going on. BBC is talking about giving me my own show on the telly. Imagine that!"

"And shows on the telly are more important than our marriage?"

"No," she replied. "But would you walk away from Vitex for our marriage?"

He thought of Yvonne Hartman then and silently cursed her. "It's not as simple as that, Jacks."

"No, it isn't, is it?" For the briefest of moments she looked quietly crushed. But then she shrugged, slapping a smile on her face. "Still, it's my birthday. No time to waste tears on something I can't fix, now is it? I have a party to arrange!"

And just like that, Hurricane Jackie was in full force again. "Now, I have the photographer here soon for the official pictures, and then there will be the reporter who will want to speak to us, and…"

"Jacks," Pete cut in, knowing if he didn't he'd never get a word in edgewise. "Mr. Lumic called when you came up. He wants me there at five to meet with him and the President."

That was not what she wanted to hear. "Pete, no! My party! Don't ruin this!"

"I'm sorry, Jacks. You know how he is."

She did. Her fingers went to the earpods, brushing against the diamonds. He could tell she was weighing the price of the gift against her anger with Lumic's request, and probably had already come to the conclusion that Pete had, they were Lumic's way of appeasing her for monopolizing his time. She sighed finally, fluttering her hands as she turned to spin out of the room. "Do whatever you need to, Pete. Just be there for the pics, yeah? Don't want the tabs speculating on what is going on between us.

"Whatever you need, Jacks," he replied quietly, ignoring the ache left behind as she marched down the hallway, shouting orders to some staff member regarding her dog. He sank slowly onto the large bed that they had once shared together.

His earpods rang again, and he absently flicked them on. It was Miles.

"How are things in the eye of the storm?"

"Miserable," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "What have you got?"

"Mrs. Moore got back. Says that one of their operatives saw someone they've identified as one of Lumic's cronies. He's been rounding up some of the homeless and using them for experiments."

"What kind?" Images of the robot Yvonne showed him sprang to mind.

"She sent video. I don't recognize anyone, but they are using a van registered to one of Lumic's subsidiary companies."

"What's on the video?"

"Let me upload it." With a few clicks of a keyboard on the other end pictures began streaming into his mind. A video, just like one he'd watch on a television screen, popped into his brain. It was shaky, clearly done by hand on a small camera. It looked as if it were in some trash heap or junkyard. A can smoked nearby, as in the distance, a van rocked. Unearthly screams of pain sounded hauntingly, as outside of the non-descript vehicle several men stood. One of them, in a suit and glasses, looked familiar to Pete, but not anyone he could have pinpointed easily.

"That's one of Lumic's, yeah." He wondered at just what was going on inside the van and decided he didn't want to know. "These more of those missing people?"

"Yeah," Miles replied grimly. "The Preachers have been trying to track down what they can. Mostly homeless, drug dealers, prostitutes, people no one would notice go missing. The people that society tends to forget."

"And how long has this been going on, you think?"

"Their intel? Months. Never many, no more than five or six at a time, most of the time it's only one or two."

"And no information on what's going on."

"The Moore woman said they only know that they are being taken and they think that he's running experiments on them."

"He might just be," Pete admitted grimly. "Get back to that Moore woman, she's more level-headed than Ricky Smith. Give her all the intel you got on International Electronics, make sure it trails back to Cybus Industries. I want her on it, making the connections. Maybe they can get in there and figure out what he's up to."

"I'm on it." Sarcasm was gone, replaced by utter efficiency. "Several members of the Torchwood board will be at the event tonight."

"Who?" Not that it was unusual. Torchwood's board had many wealthy funders who appeared at most of the same functions Jackie roped him into.

"Stephen Cavanaugh, Jim Brickman, the usual. Keep up your usual profile. None of them know you work for Yvonne."

"And lets keep it that way, shall we? I need to get out to Lumic's airstrip soon. He's coming back, is meeting with the President."

He could hear his PA pause both mentally and physically. "That soon?"

"I don't know, but he seems to have something special he wants to discuss, and I would lay even money it's whatever I've been trying to ferret out. I'll drive over there and call in when its done."

"Jackie must be thrilled," Miles intoned.

"Jacks is busy with other things." He could hear her down the way and cringed at the poor staff member who was getting it on the other end, knowing it was his fault. "Let me know what the Preachers find out, eh?"

"I'm on it." With a click, Miles was gone, replaced by the sound of voices and Jackie's demands down below. He considered which he loathed more at the moment, Lumic's meeting or Jackie's party, and decided both ranked equally high. He'd have had his skinned flailed off at this point, it seemed the friendlier option. For the moment, just the moment, he thought he had found her, the old Jacks, the girl who he had wooed with chips and haddock and made love to on an old blanket in the back of his buddies van. And then, like that, she was gone, back to her glitz and glamor. And he was back to John Lumic.

He rose as down below Jackie bellowed about the photographer being early and would he come down here so they could get this over with. Without a response he followed her summons.


	5. Chapter 5

He sat at the airstrip, waiting.

The giant zeppelin that belonged to John Lumic loomed overhead, a great, bulbous reflection of the man inside. Lumic had, of course, made much of his fortune on things like zeppelins and other materials using his steel, and had diversified it in all sorts of ways, including Cybus and Vitex. He was a creative man, one to be admired, that much was for sure, but he had always been elusive. Known for his work ethic and taciturn ways, he had never been a people person, never warm and fuzzy. That was why he had been eager to retain Pete when he'd taken over Vitex. Pete was a well known face in the market, everyone knew they could "trust" Pete Tyler. He could make Cybus friendly, respectable.

None of those things described John Lumic. Callous and recalcitrant, even before the cancer, he was well known for being happier in a research lab than in a boardroom and had rubbed more than a few of those the wrong way over the years. Still, no denying he was a man of vision. He'd started from not much more than Pete, the son of a career military father, he'd had a knack for chemistry and engineering. He'd had the opportunities Pete hadn't before Torchwood. What he lacked in charm and affability he made up for in brilliance and creativity. And the world respected him for it, even if privately they thought he was a giant arsehole.

The official looking SUV in the distance hinted at the arrival of the President, John Cain, with little of the fanfare he normally would have. It was rare that the President of the Republic was ever allowed out of Buckingham Palace without a full escort and security all around him in a long, stretch and highly armored limousine. He was lightly escorted, which hinted that he was coming in secret. He smiled brightly at the serious and austere man who stepped out, frowning mildly at Pete.

"Mr. Tyler, what's the matter that this couldn't wait till tonight?"

Pete wished he knew. "Mr. President, honored." He took the other man's hand and mentally noted he hadn't voted for him last election. He only felt a little bad about that. "I'm on the fast track program. Cybus Industries have bought my company, so I'm part of the firm now."

Cain at least managed something of a smirk at this. "Some people say they've bought my government."

Pete effected a guffaw at that, more cheerful than he really felt. "I've never heard anybody say that! Never! You can trust me on this."

His catch phrase fell flat with the leader of the British nation. He didn't even crack a smile. "I tried your drink, that Vitex stuff. It tastes like pop."

Pete felt his smile melt somewhat into a hint of shamefacedness. "Well...it is pop."

The President's eyes glittered shrewdly. "You made money by selling health food drinks to a sick world. Not quite the ordinary Joe you appear to be, are you?"

Pete let his "you can trust me" facade drop. Clearly, the President wasn't going to buy it, not in this setting.

"He does like to keep us waiting," Cain mused, glancing at the zeppelin. Clearly, he knew little more about any of this than Pete did. "But tell me, you've had a chance to observe John Lumic more than most. What's your opinion?"

He wasn't asking Pete for PR, and he knew it. Cain was clever, much more clever than his political opponents would give him credit for. Pete decided to go for diplomatic, at least for now. "He's very sharp, I'd say. Sharp as ever. Very clever man, brilliant, in fact."

"Then you don't think he's insane?"

Pete glanced at the other man carefully. "That's not the word I would've used, no."

"I see." The President nodded, clearly getting the intent of Pete's words, making his way up the steps to the zeppelin. His own guard stayed at the bottom, save one who followed behind them to the top.

While zeppelins came in all shapes and sizes, Lumics was particularly impressive. Designed to be intimidating, it served partly as Lumic's boardroom, partly as his private research lab, and partly as his personal home. He'd forsaken his own house in London years before, preferring to stay in his zeppelin full time. Some said it was because he could perform his more morally questionable experiments outside of government restrictions, others said it was so he could travel the world looking for miracle cures. Pete wondered if it weren't a little of both. Lumic had never had a family of his own that anyone knew of, his work was his life. He had little use for the frippery of wealth, but his zeppelin was his one expense, his one demonstration of his immense power and wealth.

A smiling steward met them at the top, politely greeting the President before showing them both to Lumic's boardroom cabin. It was dim inside, only lit where John Lumic sat, enthroned, in his wheelchair. There was a quiet hiss of oxygen as Lumic breathed from a great, automated mask attached to his face. As they entered, he pushed it away, smiling in polite greeting.

"President Cain, so pleased to see you." Lumic's voice was a rumble in the low hum of the room. He turned to Pete. "Thank you, Mr. Tyler for making it. I am sure your wife will forgive me for intruding on her proceedings."

"Jackie understood and said to say she is disappointed you won't be there."

"I'm sure," Lumic murmured without questioning Pete's outright lie. "It's my understanding, President Cain, that you will be attending. Jacqueline Tyler's events, from what I hear, are always well worth it."

"I'm looking forward to it," Cain replied, nodding at Pete. "With that in mind, perhaps we should get started with the presentation?"

"Of course." Lumic waved to the seats around his boardroom. He nodded to a member of his staff, who dutifully pressed a set of glowing buttons on the wall towards the side, as several, high-definition screens came to life.

"I've asked you here today, President Cain, because I wanted to present to you the future."

The screens glowed as the center one zoomed with graphics into a digital recreation of the human body. It's many blood vessels and nerves endings pulsed with quiet light as John Lumic smiled benignly at the image. Pete glanced at him, feeling his own nerves screaming with foreboding.

"What more is the human body than a collection of tubes and electrical synapses?" Lumic asked rhetorically as the image zoomed into the heart, a muscle washed in blue light, pumping rhythmically. "The heart, little more than a regulator and generator that keeps it all running. And the brain!"

The image zoomed upwards towards the digitized, blue washed brain. "The brain is the center of it all. A highly functioning computer. It is the soul of what it means to be human. Everything we think, everything we feel, everything that makes us who we are resides within the whorls and curls of this organ."

The image on the screen pulsed with life and possibility.

"Humanity has used this organ to dream, to think bigger and more boldly, to conquer the globe, even to see the stars. But for all of human ingenuity they have never been able to manage the impossible. While humans can make life, they have never figured out the science of prolonging life...of living forever."

The screen zoomed out again, now to various amputees. Some had fake arms and hands, others legs, one picture was the close up of a glass eye. "For centuries humanity has used technology to replace those limbs that have failed them, those body parts that because of illness, or accident, or war they have been deprived of. Even hearts now can be replaced and regulated by machinery, which for our ancestors would have seen like witchcraft."

The screen pulled out, now to the original image, a body, nothing more than blood vessels and impulses, the brain shining in the ghostly skull. "What if we could do the same thing to the entire body itself? A failing body is no longer a death sentence. The most precious thing on this Earth is the human brain and yet we allow it to die. But now, Cybus Industries has perfected a way of sustaining the brain indefinitely within a cradle of copyrighted chemicals. And the latest advances in synapse research allows cyberkinetic impulses to be bonded onto a metal exoskeleton."

Slowly on the screen the image of the body was surrounded by metal sheeting, layers connecting to synapses, as the image took on the haunting horror of Pete's B-movie robots. He felt his mouth go dry as he glanced across to President Cain. He noted how the other man's eyes were wide in his dark, disturbed face. Yvonne had gotten to him and Pete knew no matter what Lumic suggested here, he'd never agree to this.

"It's the ultimate upgrade," Lumic murmured proudly. "Our greatest step into cyberspace."

That was clearly all that the President needed to hear. "I'm sorry, could we stop it here?"

The video stopped as Lumic's wasted face turned in surprise, veiled annoyance in his sharp gaze.

"I don't need the pitch. I think we all know what this ultimate upgrade entails." The President shook his head, looking only on the polite side of disgusted. "And I'm here to tell you, John, the answer is no. My government does not give you permission. And I think no government ever will."

Lumic's jaw clenched. "I prepared a paper for the Ethical Committee!"

"Oh, come on!" Cain stared at him in disbelief. "It's not just unethical, it's obscene!"

Anger flared, but more than that. So too did desperation. "Mr. President, if I might make a personal plea. I am dying, sir."

Cain's horror only softened a little. "I'm aware of that. And I'm sorry."

"Without this project, you have condemned me," Lumic growled. The fine hairs on Pete's neck rose as he quickly thought of ways to placate his boss. "My inventions have advanced this whole planet. Would you have all that perish?"

The President was unswayed, frowning in admonishment. "You're a fine businessman, John, but you're not God. I'm really very sorry, but I think we should end it there."

Without preamble, the President made to leave, glancing over at Pete as he went. "Mr. Tyler, I'll see you tonight. I think we could all do with a drink." His eyes flickered to Lumic who sat, sullen in his chair. "Mr. Lumic."

The other man didn't even acknowledge the President as he left. Pete's eyed him warily. Even at the best of times, Lumic could be taciturn to the point of rudeness. He didn't think he'd ever seen Lumic angry. But he could see it, the raging, hot blaze of it, fueled by disappointment and a dying body that was failing him much sooner than his mind wanted it. He'd pity the man if he wasn't so horrified by what he was suggesting.

"Still, it's not the only country in the world," Pete tried to throw out cheerfully, anything to break the awful silence, like after a row with Jackie. "There's always New Germany."

"This is the homeland, my birthplace," Lumic replied shortly. "You may leave."

Pete didn't need to be told twice. The foul look on Lumic's face was enough to make anyone run. He resisted the urge and simply walked briskly, waiting till he was well down the hallway and out of the spiral, metal staircase before he let his nerves show. The President was still there, waiting for him, as he tried to slap on a watery smile.

"Did you know about this?"

"No, sir, not till today. I had an inkling, though, before the meeting." He neglected to tell the other man why he did.

"And you still don't want to say that he's insane?"

"Is it so insane to want to save your life," Pete offered softly, glancing back at the brooding zeppelin. "I mean, think about it, that's what this is about. He want to save his life."

"And who would check him on this?" The President scowled, shaking his head. "Who's to say that this technology couldn't be used on people against their will? Put their brains in metal bodies, make an entire army of them. Lumic's powerful, Mr. Tyler, too powerful, and he's been let loose for far too long without any checks on that power. And this is the price we are paying for it."

Pete blinked, wondering if Cain knew, if he had put the pieces together and knew Torchwood's involvement...and Pete's. "He was right up there, sir. What he's done has changed our world for the better."

"And that gives him to right to play at things that he shouldn't? I don't think so. You know the old story of Frankenstein? Lumic is brilliant, but even brilliance has its limits. And I have to say no to this, and you know it. I feel for the man, I do, but I can't sanction what he's suggesting."

"Of course not, sir." Pete didn't expect him to. And honestly, he didn't need to prove his case with him. "I'll see you off, then. Don't want you late for the party. Jacks would never forgive me."

The President's stiff smile returned. "Of course. We don't want to upset Jacqueline. Is she having that nice, French red I love?"

"The wine cellar is open to you, sir, you know that." Back on came the Pete Tyler charm as he slapped the President on the back. He waited while the other man climbed into his SUV, surrounded by protection, and watched him slowly drive off, back to the palace briefly before making the trek out to Pete's estate. As he did, he flipped on his earpods, murmuring Miles' name.

"And?" The voice on the other end asked perfunctorily.

"Get the Preachers out to my house. Tonight. I need to be kidnapped."

"Seriously?" Miles incredulity was on the verge of amusement. "From your own wife's birthday party?"

"Means I get out of it, doesn't it? I need to get out of this, Miles. I'm too close and Lumic is desperate. He's been denied, the President isn't going to give it to him, he's..." The pieces fell into place then. The Preachers' video, the missing people, the President's dire warning. "Oh my God, he's been experimenting already."

"What do you mean?"

"The missing homeless people! He's been experimenting already." Pete looked desperately around him. There was no one there, no one to speak to, and no one to hear his call. "Have them come to my house, tonight. I am the only one who knows his operation and he's going to pack it up and move it somewhere where he can get what he wants. Once he's out of here, it will be a hell of a lot harder for Torchwood to stop him."

"And you think that staging your kidnapping will prevent this?" Miles didn't sound convinced.

"I can't compromise my position as a spy for Torchwood and I need to get this information out there before Lumic gets off clean. It's the only way I can do it without arousing suspicion." He didn't like the idea, especially as the Preachers had no idea who Gemini really was. Chances were high they'd rather beat the hell out of him before listening to him. But it was the only chance he did have. "In the meantime, I think Lumic is pulling out of Battersea. Get that information to them as Gemini."

"If that's what you want." Miles muttered, clearly not happy with any of this. "What about security at your house?"

"Keep the detail low, don't what the Preachers hurt. Also, I don't care to be shot."

"I don't think Jackie would like it either. You'll ruin her party either way and scare the hell out of her."

Pete knew that. A small part of him rather hoped it did. Maybe change her mind, if he lived past all of this. "She'll be fine. Just make sure that there's enough to keep the guests safe and we'll manage."

"I hope you know what you're doing, 'cause I see this going pear-shaped real fast."

"Me too," Pete muttered, making his way to his car and desperately hoping he wasn't doing something monumentally stupid. "But between you and me, I haven't a clue, honestly.

His PA only managed a sarcastic "It figures."


	6. Chapter 6

Jackie was so caught up in greeting guests she hardly said a word when he showed up later than he'd said. She'd cut him a sharp glance, but one look at the dark frown on his face and she gave up, turning her attention to some American dilettante she was friends with, gushing over her new hair and diamond ring as large as a goose egg gracing her left hand. Pete stood beside her, slipping easily into his "trust me" role, all smiles and slapping of shoulders, welcoming some pop star whose music he never listened to and a French artist who apparently loved to cover himself in paint and throw himself at his canvases.

The house filled quickly. Celebrity A-listers were soon followed by major politicians. Several heads of state were in attendance, not to mention President Cain, and those that couldn't make it had sent proxies. He saw the American ambassador had arrived with her partner, and both were chatting up the Foreign Secretary in what Pete surmised was a heated discussion of foreign affairs. Pete left his station near the door, moving to mingle in the growing circles of attendees, shaking hands and laughing at horrible jokes and making sure that glasses were filled and everyone was having a good time. Must keep up appearances.

In the back of his mind, however, he was strung as tense as a wire. He'd had no time to give a report to Yvonne and hoped Miles had been thoughtful enough to do it. He'd not even heard from his PA, hoping he could slip away at some point and ensure that the Preachers had received the information. Ideally, he'd prefer their arrival sooner rather than later. He had no idea how fast Lumic was moving and for all he knew he could have moved his entire operation out of London and there would be no hope for Torchwood to catch him.

The music played, appetizers moved around on the hands of staff members in dark clothes. He glanced around the room looking for President Cain, settling instead on one of the wait staff standing by the doorway. He knew if Jackie noticed there would be hell to pay, but Pete tended to let the staff off lightly on special occasions like this. Most of them were kids getting paid low wages, asked to stand long hours serving food they never ate and he remembered all too well jobs like that from his own days. Still, something about this girl caught his attention. He followed the line of her gaze to the corner, where the President stood, laughing and chatting with Jackie. He watched the pair of them for a long moment, letting it sink in. There was the woman he loved, chatting it up with the President of the British Republic, one of the most powerful men in the world. Who would have thought it?

"I remember her twenty first," he murmured to the girl beside him. "Pint of cider at the George."

The girl, who had been staring at Jackie so intently she must have been a fan, blinked and blushed, clearly embarrassed at having been caught out. She held up her tray filled with glass flutes filled with bubbling gold. "Sorry! Champagne?"

Pete considered the wine. He needed to be sharp for when the Preachers arrived, but what the hell. "Oh, might as well. I'm paying for it."

The girl grinned conspiratorially and he found himself wanting to grin back. "It's a big night for you."

Pete wanted to laugh. This random staff member hardly knew the sort of night he had planned. He nodded instead towards Jackie. "For her." He sighed, watching his wife. "Still, she's happy." Events like this, Jackie was in her element.

"She should be. It's a great party." The girl replied. Pete wondered what it must be like for her, seeing all of this, a glittering world that was so far out of her reach. He remembered when Jackie had been like that once, a long time ago.

"Do you think?" He watched her curiously.

The girl nodded knowingly, large brown eyes wide as as they flickered to Jackie again, her smile returning. "You can trust me."

She said it as if she knew Jackie. And perhaps, with her bleached hair and overdone make up, in a way she did. At least the Jackie he used to know. He found himself laughing at her choice of words, almost the same he used in all of his taglines.

"You can trust me on this," he corrected, meeting her grin with one of his own, teasing.

"That's it! Sorry." She laughed, relaxing now that she knew he wasn't going to yell at her for skivving off her work. "So how long have you two been married?"

Pete was surprised she didn't know that, seeing as it was in Jackie's official biography. "Twenty years."

"And no kids, or…"

He should bristle at this perfect stranger getting so personal with him. But instead he found himself almost relieved that he didn't have to keep up appearances with her. He shook his head tightly, thinking of all those conversations over the years. "We kept putting it off. She said she didn't want to spoil her figure."

Something flickered in the girl's warm brown eyes. Dismay. Perhaps sadness. "It's not too late. She's only forty."

"Thirty-nine," he corrected absently, earning a small chuckle out of her.

"Oh, right, thirty-nine." She gave him another of those knowing looks, as if she was in on the joke. Maybe she'd been about with the other staff earlier when Jackie had pitched the fit regarding the banner. She was funny, this girl. Like Jackie when she was young, but with that streetwise humor that Jackie never got about Pete. He wondered if she was from the old neighborhood, one of the kids of someone he knew in the day. Could it have been that long? Was he old enough that now the kids of his old mates were now grown up? He supposed he was. Had he and Jacks had kids first off, he surmised that they would be about this girl's age now. That thought ached as he considered it. So much time wasted.

"It's still too late," he sighed around the painful lump in his throat. "I moved out last month, but we're going to keep it quiet. You know, it's bad for business."

It only occurred to him after the fact who he was talking to. Jackie would have his scalp for it, if she knew, fearful of gossip in the tabs. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to care. "Why am I telling you all this? We haven't met before, have we?"

The girl's cinnamon colored eyes widened in shock as she nervously shook her head. 

"I don't know, you just seem sort of …" 

He trailed off as curiosity and something else stared back up at him from the girl. "What?"

"I don't know. Just sort of right." he murmured vaguely. This was ridiculous, being this open, when he had other things to think about. Out of the corner of his eye he caught one of the Torchwood board members and waved him down. "Steve, how's things? How's Torchwood?"

Steven Cavanaugh stuttered in his pursuit of a leggy brunette in a dress cut so low, he could practically see her belly button. He grinned at Pete who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Peter, grand, grand! And you?"

"Oh, busy, the usual." Pete glanced back to the blonde girl, but she had slipped away, back to her work. "Say, you haven't spoken to John Lumic of late, have you?"

"Lumic? He's still alive?" Steven guffawed. A balding, small, thin man, his whole body shook with the force of it. "He hides in that zeppelin of his and never bothers with us mere mortals anymore."

"Really? Not even pestering Torchwood to join his consortium again?" Lumic had tried several times, but as Torchwood was publicly funded, he could never get his hands on it.

"Not of late. Seems to be rather done with us." Steven didn't seem bothered, reaching for a passing tray to grab a salmon pinwheel. "I say, though, he did work over Yvonne' Hartman's predecessor something fierce. I'm glad she's taken a hand with him. He was being let free with a few too many privileges."

"Right," Pete grimaced. Even Torchwood's board didn't know the half of it. Yvonne had kept it well under wraps. "Well, he's got some great things planned."

"I'd be interested in seeing what he's got." The other man popped the appetizer in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as a leggy, dark-skinned woman with a magnificent decolletage wandered by, her slinky, white silk dress drawing Steven's eye like a magnet. "I say, Tyler, if you would excuse me."

Pete watched the lech wander off with a hint of helplessness. Even Torchwood's governing body was clueless as to what was going on here. And he could in no way reveal it, not without hinting at what he was about. He needed to call Miles. He made to find somewhere private, but no sooner turned then he found the President standing at his elbow, an eyebrow arched pointedly in the direction of Steven Cavanaugh's passing.

"I know what you are about, Tyler, and it isn't going to work."

Pete wanted to slam up his natural defenses, let the charm take it's course, but he just couldn't. "Mr. President, you have no idea what I'm about."

"Really?" The other man hardly looked convinced. "How many heads of state do you have here? Half of Torchwood's governing body? And you can't expect me to believe that they aren't here so you can do Lumic's dirty work and convince someone into his mad scheme?"

"You will find no one more agreeable that this is all madness than I, Mr. President, and I assure you that this isn't about furthering Lumic's plan."

"You know I won't support him, even if he goes abroad."

"Sir, that's fine, but that's not really what this is about." Peter felt desperate. Over the President's shoulder he could see Jackie wandering outside into the fresh air.

"I know your wife likes bragging about me at your parties, but even this feels contrived."

Pete could have screamed at him that he was wrong, that he was a spy trying to stop Lumic. "Sir, what if I were to tell you I suspect that not only was Lumic planning on ignoring you, but he had already been running experiments?"

That clearly wasn't what the President expected to hear. "You seriously think he's gone that far? He only just showed me the proposal."

"I think he's gone that far and then some," Pete insisted. "I think he's been using people no one would notice; homeless, druggies, prostitutes, and has been running tests on them."

For all that John Cain was normally a fair minded man, he looked at Peter as if he were mad. "I may find his work unethical, Mr. Tyler, but I don't know if John Lumic would go that far."

"I do," he replied quickly. "I have proof and can get it. What would your government do if I did?"

The President blinked at him, stunned. "Are you serious?"

"As a heartbeat. As serious that Vitex is nothing more than sugar and water and some vitamins thrown in with some color."

Cain nodded slowly. "We have due process, Peter. It would be your word against his, and he's got a bevy of lawyers to protect it all."

"Could you get the military, police, something over to stop him?"

"Let's not get hasty…"

"Could you, if I got you proof? Tonight?"

"Possibly. But what's this all about?"

"I'll tell you more when I get it," Pete replied grimly. "Just...trust me on this."

The President studied him for a long moment. "I'll do nothing and say nothing until that moment. You know I can't."

"Just give me a few hours...through tonight. I'll get it for you."

"I'll wait," Cain murmured, as someone from the opposition government wandered over, glass in hand, greeting them both. Pete smiled perfunctorily, and with a measured look at the president, made his way out of the situation, looking for a private corner as he did so.

The first number he dialed was Miles, who answered immediately with a statement. "They have the information. They should be on their way."

Pete's jaw tightened. He would need to convince them quickly. He had no time to waste. "Patch me through to Yvonne. Now."

"Right," Miles replied. He heard the click and whir in his ear as the other line was connected and Yvonne's voice answered.

"How is the party, Peter? Jackie having a good time?"

"Lumic's making these robot men, Yvonne." Pete cut in without preamble. "He tried to sell the President on the idea, but he wouldn't give in. I think Lumic's been experimenting in secret this whole time and maybe already has some."

All flirtation was gone out of the other woman's tone. "You are sure of this?"

"Not completely. I pieced it together out of Lumic's presentation and some video the Preachers sent. He's been gathering the homeless, using them, I'm sure of it. I'm going to try and get more evidence tonight."

"How?"

"I'm going to get kidnapped." He couldn't help the hint of cheek at the audacity of this crazed plan. "Let the Preachers take me and then help them get the evidence we need."

"Peter, you can't do that." Yvonne's irritation now rose to an order. "That's not what you are there for. It would jeopardize your position and put you in danger. And we have operatives that can do it just as easy."

"But none who know Lumic's work as well as I do. You know it, Yvonne."

She did. And she clearly wasn't any happier for it. "This is ridiculous. What makes you believe they will even go along with this?"

"I don't know that they will, but whatever information we get, Miles is under orders to get it to you. Make sure the President sees it, make sure he gets it, to stop this."

"And let him know that Torchwood helped something like this happen?"

"Would you rather have that or an army of robots with people's brains on your doorstep?" Pete snarled, glancing in the distance at the President in the corner with his party. Jackie had returned, marching through the French doors, clearly annoyed at something. No sooner than she crossed the threshold than the entire back lawn lit up in a blaze of white light.

That had to be the Preachers.

"I've got to go, I think my ride is here." Pete clicked off to the sound of Yvonne's loud protestations. How did one prepare themselves for a kidnapping? And how did he get somewhere where Jackie wouldn't be hurt?

No sooner than he had that thought than the sound of breaking glass caused the guests to scream. Only it wasn't a group of men in black clothing in masks that appeared. Instead, silvery, boxy bodies shuffled in, with heavy footsteps under giant, robot heads. The bottom of Pete's stomach fell out from under him. Too late...already, it was too late.

People screamed as glass crunched into the parquetry and one of the horrific creatures made it's way towards where the President and Jackie stood. Heart in throat, he tried to make his way towards them, even as John Cain's phone began to ring. He watched as the president answered and had a feeling judging by the horror and anger on the other man's face that the person on the other end was John Lumic.

"I forbade this," the President growled, staring at the wall of silver bodies surrounding him.

Pete stared at them wildly, looking for Jackie in the huddled crowd. She stood there, blue eyes wide and fearful. Everyone in the room did, everyone's gaze fixed on what was going on, holding their breath at the one-sided conversation going on in their presence.

"Who were these people," the President replied to the other side. "I demand to know, Lumic. Who were these people?"

Whatever was said on the other side, the President's expression grew more outraged and fearful. Suddenly, the robot standing most immediately in front of him spoke up in a horrific, electronic voice. "We have been upgraded."

"Into what?" A man stood out from the crowd, no one Pete knew. He was in a tuxedo, could have been a guest, could have been staff. He was tall and thin, with a shock of wild, dark hair. By the look he gave the creature in front of him, you would have thought he saw a ghost.

"The next level of mankind. We are human point two. Every citizen will receive a free upgrade. You will become like us."

Fear spiked across the room, but President Cain regarded the creature with sorrowful compassion. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what's been done to you. But listen to me, this experiment ends tonight."

"Upgrading is compulsory," the robot insisted with no emotion, no feeling, no humanity. It made Pete's skin crawl.

"And if I refuse," the President demanded.

"Don't refuse," the dark haired man insisted, expression taut.

The President ignored him "What if I refuse?"

The stranger looked at him, pleading. "I'm telling you, don't!"

The President didn't look at him. "What happens if I refuse?"

There was a breathless silence for half a moment. When the robot spoke again, it was with grim perfunctory.

"Then you are not compatible."

"What happens then," Cain pressed.

"Then you will be deleted."

Before the cold words had time to chill through Pete's senses, the creature had reached a hand for President Cain's neck. The other man couldn't move fast enough as the metal fingers enclosed and sparks of blue electricity arced across dark skin, his body going rigid, twitching and convulsing. People screamed. They began pushing, running, as the dark haired man grabbed the blonde girl he had seen earlier and ran past Pete. In the melee, somewhere, was Jackie.

"Jackie!" He screamed her name, attempting to find her among the mass of people running and crying. "Jackie!" There was no sight even of her bright head among those fleeing.

All hell had broken loose, with the robot creatures now grabbing whatever random guest they could. Shouts of anguish followed, and despite his fear for his wife, Pete knew he had to run. Turning, he made for one of the windows, out towards the lawn. Glass scattered like diamonds on the brick and grass, and ahead of him he could see the dark haired man and the girl, stopped, a line of silver monstrosities in their wake. As if on instinct, the girl turned towards Pete. "Quick, quick," she called, urging him towards them.

The man looked at him, wild. "Pete, is there a way out?"

The man spoke as if he knew him, though Pete had never seen him in his life. Like as not he just recognized Pete's image. Still, the way the man's dark eyes looked through him was unnerving. He was the one who spoke up, the one who had begged the President not to give in. He knew something about these creatures. Another Torchwood spy?

"The side gate," he nodded in the direction of the fence that led off the main garden. But he wasn't about to let them run off, not without a few answers. "Who are you? How do you know so much."

"You wouldn't believe me in a million years," the man grinned, turning towards the gate, the girl's hand in his, running full tilt. Pete followed, feet slipping on dewy grass in his expensive, Armani shoes. Just as they neared the gate in the fence, two silver figures loomed into their path. The man and girl stopped, mid-stride, stumbling to a halt.

Out of nowhere, two figures raced across the lawn towards them.

"Who's that," the girl asked, breathless, as the figure of Ricky Smith charged up front.

"Get behind me," he ordered, as the other man, Jake Simmonds, tore up without a thought. Pete and the pair scrambled behind them as they opened fire on the two figures advancing.

The girl stared at them, open mouthed. You'd have thought she'd never seen a gun before, or perhaps it was just Ricky Smith. When the firing stopped, she threw herself at him in awed delight. "Oh my God! I thought I'd never see you again! Look at you!"

Mild confusion and bemusement writ itself on Ricky's face. "Yeah? No offense, sweetheart, but who the hell are you?"

Another voice caught their attention, sounding just like Ricky's. "Rose, that's not me! That's the other one!"

They turned to see a carbon copy of Ricky Smith sauntering over, wide-eyed and out of breath.

"Oh, if things weren't bad enough, now there are two Mickeys," the dark haired man complained loudly.

"It's Ricky," the first Ricky retorted angrily.

"But there's more of them," the second Ricky pointed, as more silver bodies encircled them.

"We're surrounded." The girl, apparently named Rose of all things, murmured. She watched them each warily.

Jake did what most of the Preachers did best. He whipped his gun on them and started firing, only to be stopped by the dark haired man, who glare daggers at the utterly confused Jake.

"Put the guns down," the stranger snapped. "Bullets won't stop them."

Clearly, they didn't. The silver monstrosities still kept coming.

"No! Stop shooting now," the man ordered with the sort of authority Pete felt he should be mustering at the moment, but couldn't seem to find it. Instead, he turned towards the oncoming threat and held up his hands, his arms in his tuxedo jacket held high. "We surrender!"

He shot a glance at Rose, baffled beside him. "Hands up!"

The girl did as she was told, glancing at the second Ricky, then at Pete. Unsure of where this was all going, he went along with it, stiffly raising his hands as the dark haired man took the lead.

"There's no need to damage us," he called the the robots. "We're good stock. We volunteer for the upgrade program. Take us to be processed."

Pete wanted to ask the man if he was insane, but didn't have the change. One of the robots spoke in its eerie, mechanized voice. "You are rogue elements."

"But we surrender!" The dark haired man insisted.

"You will be deleted," the voice replied, seeming to not care one whit whether this fellow was trying to surrender or not.

"But we're surrendering," he shouted, looking desperate now. "Listen to me, we surrender."

"You are inferior," the robot coldly replied. "Man will be reborn as Cyberman. But you will be punished with maximum deletion."

Around them, a chorus of "delete, delete" rose, terrifying in its electronic in-humanness, as each one raised an arm up, pointed at them. He was going to die, right there, in his own garden, behind a madman, Pete realized. And he wouldn't even get a chance to tell Jackie that he loved her and that he was so sorry, for all of it.

The dark haired man stood in front of all of the pointing arms. Immediately all look of surrender fled as he straightened, reached into his pocket and removed something that he then pointed at them. A golden energy burst forth from his hand, enveloping the robot men, who bent over backwards with the sheer force of it, disintegrating into nothing. Even as Pete blinked against the sudden glare, they disappeared, misting away as if they had never existed. Beside him, the girl, Rose, gasped and shivered.

"What the hell was that?" The first Ricky swore, staring at the dark haired man.

"We'll have that instead," he shrugged, nonchalantly as he shoved whatever it was back into his pocket and grabbed Rose's hand. "Run!"

Before they could get far, however, a car horn sounded, catching their attention.

"Mrs. Moore!" Jake and Ricky grinned, making for the vehicle It screeched to a stop just shy of them, the door slamming open. The silver-haired women he knew from his intel as Mrs. Moore sat behind the wheel, jerking her head at the lot.

"Everybody in," she ordered. The others began to do just as she bid, but Pete didn't. He turned back to his house, the one he didn't even like that much. The screams that had been echoing in there now were all frighteningly silent. Jackie was in there, somewhere, alone and scared. He had to find her.

"I've got to go back," he said, turning to go. "My wife's in there."

The dark hair man grabbed him, pulling him back with surprising strength for a man as wiry as him. "Anyone inside that house is dead," he hissed, eyes nearly black with sadness and empathy. "If you want to help, then don't let her die for nothing. You've got to come with us right now."

"Come on! Get a move on," Mrs. Moore shouted from the front.

Pete wanted to shake him off, to pull away from him and tell him to sod off. Jackie couldn't be dead. But there was something in those eyes, far older than the young face that were in, that warned him against it. Instead he simply nodded, clambering into the van. Pete slumped into the seat next to the second Ricky, the one that wasn't giving him dirty glances from across the van. This Ricky, at least, was merely staring at him sideways, as if he were just as fantastic as the robot men they just encountered. The last one in was the girl, Rose, who kept staring back at the house while the dark haired man urged her inside. Mrs. Moore grumbled about the slowness of their getaway as the man slammed the door shut behind them, and she sped off, gravel flying in their wake. 

Pete turned to stare behind him at the house that had, until minutes ago, been filled with life and laughter. What had Lumic done?

"What was that thing?" Ricky number one piped up in the silence, directing his question at the dark haired man.

"Little bit of technology from my home," the man replied, almost proudly.

Ricky number two frowned at him in worry. "It's stopped glowing. Has it run out?"

The man didn't look concerned. "It's on a revitalizing loop, it'll charge up in about four hours."

"Right," Ricky snorted. "So, we don't have a weapon anymore?"

"Yeah, we've got weapons!" Jake's sharp eyes cut directly at Pete. Hell, he swallowed, remembering suddenly the small snag in his own plan. The Preachers still didn't know who he was. "Might not be one of those metal things, but they're good enough for men like him."

Immediately Rose glared at the sharp-faced man, anger flaring golden in her eyes. "Leave him alone! What's he done wrong!?"

Pete would have smiled at her protectiveness, if he wasn't half terrified that Jake might actually just kill him before he had a chance to explain.

"Oh, you know," Jake shrugged coldly. "Just laid a trap that's wiped out the government and left Lumic in charge."

Bloody hell! That wasn't what he had bargained for in any of this, not at all.

"If I was part of all that, do you think I'd leave my wife inside?" Pete snapped, the stress and fear of the last few minutes bubbling up inside of him, welling with the truth that he knew.

Ricky looked no more convinced than Jake. "Maybe your plan went wrong. Still gives us the right to execute you, though."

"Talk about executions, you'll make me your enemy." The dark hair man whipped on them both, a cold, simmering anger brewing just below his surface, leaving a palatable chill in the air that made both men inch back just a little. "And take some really good advice, you don't want that."

The two men exchanged nervous glances, silently agreeing that perhaps they didn't. Pete couldn't blame them. The stranger had him terrified and confused. Who in the world was he? How did he know about all of this? And what was it about him, with his strange energy crystal and that aura of power?

"All the same," Ricky continued, still glaring at Pete, though perhaps a fraction less threatening. "We have evidence that says Pete Tyler's been working for Lumic since twenty point five."

Rose turned to him, disbelief on her face. "Is that true?"

Why did that hurt bother him so much coming from her?

"Tell them, Mrs. M." Ricky number one called to the driver.

Mrs. Moore glanced at them in her rear view mirror. "We've got a government mole who feeds us information. Lumic's private files, his South American operations, the lot. Secret broadcasts twice a week."

Lord, the broadcasts he had Miles send to them. Pete could have laughed. "Broadcast from Gemini?"

Ricky turned to him, eyes like saucers. "And how do you know that?"

Pete rolled his eyes, heartily wishing he could slap the man and glad, somewhat, that his plan with the Preachers hadn't come to fruition if they were this thick. "I'm Gemini. That's me."

"Yeah, well you would say that," Ricky snorted.

"Encrypted wavelength six five seven using binary nine?" Pete sneered, feeling somewhat mollified at the stunned looks on Ricky and Jake's faces. "That's the only reason I was working for Lumic. To get information. I thought i was broadcasting to the security services. What do I get? Scooby Doo and his gang. They've even got the van."

He spat out the last bit, earning a bit of a giggle from Rose, as Ricky number two jumped in for some inexplicable reason. "No, no, no, but the Preachers know what they're doing. Ricky said he's London's Most Wanted!"

It was Pete's turn to snort and smirk at Ricky, who suddenly looked as if he wished for a hole to open up and swallow his twin right that second. "Yeah, that's not exactly…"

Ricky number two looked utterly lost. "Not exactly what?"

"I'm London's Most Wanted for parking tickets."

"Great," muttered Pete, as somewhere he thought he could hear Yvonne Hartman laughing at him. This was just wonderful.

"Yeah, they were deliberate. I was fighting the system. Park anywhere, that's me!" Ricky tried to defend himself, his voice becoming higher with every punctuation of his protest.

"Good policy," the dark haired man assured him, absently. "I do much the same. I'm the Doctor, by the way, if anyone's interested."

"And I'm Rose," the girl piped up, waving. "Hello!"

"Even better," Pete muttered, as it finally sunk in that it was the the name of Jackie's furball. "That's the name of my dog. Still, at least I've got the catering staff on my side." What in the hell had he gotten himself into?

Rose looked at him in relieved approval. "I knew you weren't a traitor!"

Did she? How that was, he didn't know, the girl didn't know him from Adam. The way she stared at him, you'd have thought he was some sort of knight-in-shining armor, not some berk who'd let his boss take over the government. "Why is that, then?"

She shrugged her shoulders in her awful, black dress. "I just did."

Such utter faith from someone he hardly knew. A girl, some random stranger at his party, her eyes shining with belief in him, a nobody. Some guy she'd likely grown up seeing on telly and on the sides of buses. All she knew about him was that he was the rich and famous Pete Tyler, husband to Jackie. How could she possibly believe in a man who let all of this happen?

"They took my wife," he murmured, as inexplicable tears sprang to his eyes. She believed in a man who let his wife be taken while he ran and hid.

"She might still be alive," Rose replied with utter faith.

But he didn't want that. He'd rather Jackie be dead. "That's even worse," he replied, thinking of the video of the homeless men and the van. "Because that's what Lumic does. He takes the living, and he turns them into those machines."

"Cybermen." The Doctor corrected him grimly. "They're called Cybermen. And I'd take those earpods off, if I were you."

Unquestioningly, Pete did as he was asked, not able to think of a reason not to. He passed them over to the Doctor, who pulled a strange, humming flashlight out of his pocket and held it up to each one. "You never know. Lumic could be listening."

He passed them back to Pete. "But he's overreached himself. He's still just a businessman. He's assassinated the President. All we need to do is get to the city and inform the authorities. Because, I promise you, this ends tonight."

The resolve in the strange man's voice made Pete almost believe he would see to it himself. "How can you be sure?"

The man turned his fathomless eyes on to him, dark and hard, even in the dim light of the van. "I've seen them before. And I will not let them win."

Seen them before? "Who are you," Pete found himself asking, wondering how that was even possible.

In a flash, the steel was masked with a cheery, almost goofy smile. "Me? I'm no one special. Just the Doctor. I like helping people is all. And I'll help you in this, Pete Tyler. But you'll have to trust me."

Trust him? Pete didn't even know who he was. But given the circumstances of where he was at, he could hardly see where he had a choice. "I suppose I have to...Doctor."

"Brilliant!" The man beamed, as Rose beside him did the same. "Now, Mrs. Moore, take us to the nearest authorities. They'll think us mad, but we will stay till we convince them."

" _They_ will think we're mad? I'm not so sure we aren't," she muttered back.

"That's the spirit, Mrs. Moore! Pedal to the metal!"

Tires screeched as the woman did just that and Pete clung onto his seat for dear life.


	7. Chapter 7

A line of humanity shuffled, eyes blank and jaws slack, into the Battlesea factory. It didn't take much for Pete and Rose to slip in among them. None of the looming Cybermen seemed to notice their arrival, and fewer still paid attention to them as they tried to glance, discreetly, among the stony faces, looking for Jackie. So far in this sea of humanity, no luck.

"Don't see her," Rose murmured stiffly, eyes flickering back and forth. "You?"

"No," Pete whispered, straining to make out a hint of platinum blonde somewhere. "There's too many of them."

"We'll find her," Rose replied firmly. He stared at the back of her own, blonde hair, wondering how it was a girl like this ended up here, doing this for him.

"What's she mean to you?" He knew they shouldn't be talking, it would draw attention. But he couldn't help himself. He had seen how the girl had been watching Jackie at the party, knew the way she had warmed up to him in the van. What was she playing at?

Rose was silent for long moments and he wondered if she had even heard, but she finally sighed. "She reminds me of my mum, that's why."

"Oh," Pete replied, not sure what to say about that. "Your mum's loud, rude, and obnoxious, too?"

An indelicate snort sounded, quickly smothered as they both glanced nervously around. Rose turned just enough he could see the smirk and sparkle in her brown eyes.

"Yeah, something like that." Her shoulders rose and fell as she turned forward again, shuffling in the long line. "Your wife is a bit like her. Not as nice as my mum, but still."

He should leap to Jackie's defense, but sadly he knew the girl's assessment was more true than he liked to admit. "Yeah, Jacks didn't used to always be that way. Life just changed."

"It does that, yeah?" Rose's head shook. "Maybe, if things had been different."

"Yeah," he agreed as they both lapsed into silence. Ahead of them, the looming figures of the Cybermen brought them both to stillness. He could see the girl stiffen, her head jerk up straight and tall. Pete did the same, trying hard not to even blink his eyes too much so as not to draw their attention. They filed through the large, double doors, into the warehouse, where the sounds of whirling machinery and hissing steam sounded, rumbling loudly in the enclosed, confined space of concrete and metal.

Their line moved towards a series of circular, metal chambers in the middle. Cybermen stood by, watching the procession as one-by-one, humans walked into the chambers, automatic doors closing in on them. The whirring sped up to a high pitch, like the sound of a buzz saw, and then stopped. All was silent and the doors opened to an empty, spotless room. Pete watched it, swallowing against the bile in his throat. He wasn't sure what was more horrifying, the clean, disinfected starkness of it or the imagery his mind created of just what was going on in there.

Somewhere, above the machine noises, a disembodied, electronic voice sounded. "Units upgraded now six thousand five hundred. Repeat. Six thousand five hundred and rising."

Six thousand units? Did it mean people? Six thousand five hundred people? In just two hours, maybe three? Six thousand people, their lives snuffed out, just like that. Turned into metal monstrosities. Did they even know what happened to them? Were they even aware?

The line moved steadily forward. Just in front of him, Rose marched dutifully. A Cyberman held out a hand right in front of her, stopping her progress, nearly causing Pete to step right into her.

"You will wait," it ordered, before turning away. He could see Rose's shoulders tense.

"You okay," he whispered.

"No," she replied softly and honestly. He could hear the fear. If he could have, he'd have reached up and squeezed her arm reassuringly, but any sign of any such emotion would be a dead giveaway about them. Above them, the disembodied voice sounded again.

"Chamber six now open for human upgrading. All reject stock will be incinerated."

Pete scanned the lines feeding into the chambers, hoping against hope. "Any sign of Jackie?"

Before Rose could so much as shake her head, one of the Cybermen clomped up, staring at him. He swallowed, trying hard not to meet the blank face curiously.

"You are Pete Tyler. Confirm you are Pete Tyler."

He tried to keep his face as blank as possible. "Confirmed."

"I recognize you," the Cyberman replied in a manner that seemed both familiar and utterly disturbing coming out of the creature. "I went first. My name is Jacqueline Tyler."

Pete's mind blanked horribly as he stared up into the silver horror, his brain trying to twist itself around the idea of what it was saying. Even as it failed he could hear Rose scream "No!"

"What!" He gasped, breath failing him as he felt cold and sick all at once. Jackie had just been laughing at her party, joking with the President, insisting she was thirty-nine and not forty. She had just been yelling at him and telling him that everything was his fault. This...thing, that couldn't be his Jacks. This thing couldn't be his wife.

"You are unprogrammed," the thing claiming to be Jackie stated dispassionately. "Retrain."

"You're lying," he found himself yelling, unable to believe for a second that this creature was anything like Jackie. "You're not her. You're not my Jackie!"

"No. I am Cyberform. Once I was Jackie Tyler."

"But you can't be," Rose cried, tears in her eyes. "Not her."

"Her brain is inside this body," the Cyberman insisted, as if it was talking about the weather and not the woman he had loved. Pete's heart broke, his eyes burning as he stared at all that remained of his wife.

"Jacks, I came to save you," he sobbed. But no tears or regret seemed to affect what she had become.

"This man man worked with Cybus Industries to create our species," the Jackie Cyberman called to the others nearby. Pete's heart clenched at the very idea. "He will be rewarded by force! Take them to Cyber Control."

With rough, uncaring hands, the metal monsters descended, grabbing Pete and Rose and dragging them out of the line. Rose turned to him, tearful and horrified as she glanced backwards at what had been Jackie. "They killed her! They just took her and killed her!"

Pete almost felt too numb to respond. Just hours ago she'd been vibrant. He too glanced back at the Cyberman who watched as they were shuffled off. "Maybe there's a chance. I don't know, maybe we can reverse it."

"There's nothing we can do," Rose replied, despondent.

"But if...if she remembers!" He grasped at hope, any hope. He glanced back again, but now other Cybermen had come in, other nameless, faceless beings, and Jackie was lost in the crowd. "Where is she? Which one was she?"

"They all look the same," Rose said. Indeed, the entire floor was covered with nondescript, silver faces, and more and more were added to their number. How many hundred had died just in the few minutes they had been standing there?

One of the Cybermen escorted them towards an elevator, herding them both inside as they stumbled into the metal enclosure. It did not follow, but it pressed a button that closed the doors, jerking them upwards from the floor, up towards the top of the building. Beside him, Rose sniffed, rubbing absently at her nose, mascara leaking down the side of her cheek. He wanted to join her, to break into tears as well, but his body felt too numb, too raw for that. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Two more Cybermen waited, still as statues as they shuffled out. They found themselves in a large control room, filled with computers, monitors, and screens showing them the activity of what was going on below. Pete watched on one of the monitors as arms with giant blades on them flashed and spun inside a chamber, an unknown body being massacred as a moment later a shining, silver Cyberman stepped out.

Behind him, Rose whimpered, but said nothing.

"What is this place?: He turned to stare at her white, stoic face.

"I'm guessing this is where Lumic is watching his new empire," she retorted, glaring at everything, including the silent Cybermen. "Wonder where he is?"

"Don't know." Pete wondered that himself. Last he'd seen of Lumic was on his zeppelin that afternoon, before the party. "Maybe he's too coward to see his own handiwork, then?"

"Maybe," Rose sniffed in disgust. "One thing to be an evil genius, another to have to be responsible for it, eh?"

Perhaps. But it wasn't like Lumic, not the John Lumic he knew. Sure, he was willing to leave the onerous task of glad handing and people dealing to Pete, but his pet projects were usually micromanaged by Lumic himself. He should, by all rights, be there gloating over his own creation. It was surprising that he wasn't.

The elevator whirled and sounded again, the doors opening. They turned to see the tall, lanky figure of the Doctor wander in, seemingly in the middle of a conversation. "I've been captured, but don't worry, Rose and Pete are still out there. They can rescue me." He stopped, taking the pair of them in, dark eyes flickering between them before a look of mild disgust had him rolling them. "Oh well, never mind. You okay?"

The last question was directed to Rose, and Pete got the distinct impression that he might as well not exist for the Doctor if Rose was in the room. The girl nodded, her face strained. "Yeah. But they got Jackie."

"We were too late," Pete added, voice breaking slightly. "Lumic killed her."

Sympathy and anger flashed, hot and bright, as the Doctor turned to glance around the room. "Then where is he, the famous Mr. Lumic? Don't we get a chance to meet our Lord and Master?"

One of the Cybermen, who'd all been silent up to that point, replied to the Doctor's taunting. "He has been upgraded."

The Doctor stopped right in front of the creature, studying the blank face. "So he's just like you?"

"He is superior," the Cyberman replied. "The Lumic unit was designated Cyber Controller."

To the side a door opened, gears grinding, and revealing a giant metal wheelchair and a large Cyberman enthroned in it. Out of the creature, a deep, powerful voice sounded. "This is the age of steel! And I am its Creator!"

Too stunned to even vocalize his horror, Pete merely stood mutely, praying this was just a simple nightmare, that Miles would call him with his annoying habit of being right and irritate him till he got out of bed. Unfortunately, this was his new reality. Standing in shock beside him, her eyes impossibly large, Rose breathed beside him. "Oh my God, he's mad!"

"You just now noticed," Pete muttered. Gone was the wasted, dying body, its breath rattling in his chest, unable to stand on its own. In its place was a cold, uniform mass of steel, strong enough to easily crush the likes of him. It sat majestically over them, as it oversaw all that it had created and clearly thought of it as good.

"I will bring peace to the world, everlasting peace," it proclaimed. "And unity and uniformity."

"And imagination," the Doctor challenged, interrupting the Controller in its pontificating. "What about that? The one thing that led you here; imagination. You're killing it dead."

The Controller stopped, as if regarding the Doctor and thinking him nothing more than a pesky fly in its ointment. "What is your name?"

"I'm the Doctor," he replied, as if it were a challenge.

"A redundant title." The Controller brushed it off. "Doctors need not exist. Cybermen never get sick."

"Yeah, but that's it!" The Doctor cut in conversationally. "That's exactly the point! Oh, Lumic, you're a clever man. I'd call you a genius, except I'm in the room."

It was such a non-sequitur Pete turned to stare at Rose who only smiled, tightly, as the Doctor began to wander, clearly lost in whatever rambling thoughts had caught his fancy at the moment.

"But everything you've invented, you did to fight your sickness. And that's brilliant. That is so human." The Doctor said "human" like one might refer to their pet terrier or the particularly cute toddler. "But once you get rid of sickness and mortality, than what's there to strive for, eh? The Cybermen won't advance. You'll just stop. You'll stay like this forever. A metal Earth with metal men and metal thoughts, lacking the one thing that makes this planet so alive. People. Ordinary, stupid, brilliant people."

The Controller regarded the Doctor. "You are proud of your emotions?"

"Oh, yes," he replied fervently.

"And they hurt?"

"Oh, yes." He nodded, something so painful, so aching and excruciating coming to the surface that even Pete ached seeing it. He knew that whatever was left of Lumic could as well.

"I could set you free," the Controller offered. "Would you want that? A life without pain?"

Whatever the Doctor was feeling, whatever was going through his mind, he still shook his head. "You might as well kill me."

The Controller only considered for half a moment. "Then I take that option."

"It's not yours to take," the Doctor snapped. "You're a Cyber Controller. You don't control me or anything with blood in its heart."

"You have no means of stopping me," the Controller countered proudly. "I have an army, a species of my own."

"You just don't get it, do you?" the Doctor sneered as if Lumic, with all of his brilliance, was a particularly thick dunce sitting on his throne. Pete stared at the Doctor, wondering if he knew what game he was playing at. "An army of nothing, because those ordinary people, they're key. The most ordinary person could change the world."

He began to wander the room, then, rambling, like he was making light conversation. "Some ordinary man or woman, some idiot! All it takes is for him to find, say, the right numbers. Say the right codes. Say, for example, the code behind the emotional inhibitor. The code right in front of him."

Emotional inhibitor? What was this the Doctor was going on about? Pete glanced at Rose, who caught his eye and then nodded discreetly towards a camera in the upper corner. A red light blinked on it. They were being watched. And the Doctor knew who it was. He was sending a message to them.

"Because even he knows how to use a computer these days," the Doctor continued to wander. "Knows how to get past firewalls and passwords. Knows how to find something encrypted in the Lumic Family Database, under...er...what was it Pete? Binary?"

Pete blinked when he realized the Doctor was speaking to him. "Binary nine."

"An idiot could find that code - cancellation code - and he'd keep on typing. Keep on fighting, anything to save his friends."

"Your words are irrelevant," the Controller replied, clearly lost as to what the Doctor was really up to. No imagination indeed! Clearly Lumic couldn't even see that anyone could possibly be smarter than he was or outwit him. And there this strange man with his manic eyes and wild hair was doing just that, blithe as could be. And he hardly seemed put out that the Controller thought his words irrelevant.

"Yeah, talk too much," he shrugged, waving it off. "That's my problem. Lucky I get the cheap tariff, Rose, for all our long chats on your phone."

Rose reached for the pocket of her dress, pulling out the old fashioned sort of phones that went out of style the minute Lumic had introduced the earpods. It hadn't occurred to him she hadn't been wearing any. Something clicked then, something he heard she and the Doctor talking about earlier, something about different universes. He stared at her as she palmed the device.

"You will be deleted," the Controller threatened.

"Yes, deleted!" The Doctor spun around, as if his very life wasn't in danger. "Control, hash, all those lovely buttons! Then, of course, my particular favorite, send! And lets not forget how you seduced those ordinary people in the first place. By making every bit of technology compatible with everything else."

All the talk of buttons made it click for Pete. Lumic had marketed the earpods as being completely hands free. No need for buttons. One could simply download it all, have it all talk to each other.

Beside him, Rose's phone beeped.

Rose held up her phone. "It's for you."

The Doctor grabbed it and turned to the Controller. "Like this!"

In one fluid movement, he jammed the phone into a docking station by one of the monitors. Instantly, numbers flashed up on all of the screens as suddenly each and every one of the Cybermen began to shriek in agony. They clutched their metal heads, bending over, as Pete and Rose spun around, staring at them."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor murmured with infinite sadness as watched one in particular. It had caught its own reflection in a mirror. It screamed and howled.

"What have you done?" the Controller bellowed in disbelief at the writhing, agonized forms around it.

"I gave them back their souls," the Doctor replied calmly, removing Rose's phone. "They can see what you've done, Lumic. And its killing them."

With that, he nodded towards Pete, turning to run for the elevator, his long legs speeding him out of the door, Rose not far behind him. Pete didn't take an extra thought to do the same. The doors opened and they jammed inside, even as the Controller screamed "delete, delete" over and over again in their wake.

When the elevator opened on the floor below, the scene was filled with agonized Cybermen, writhing across the warehouse floor, the people now all completely gone. Whether the people were freed or had been turned, Pete didn't know, but tortured Cybermen blocked the paths as the Doctor whirled frantically. "There's no way out."

He whipped around, running back up the metal staircase. Behind them, a small explosion sounded, heat flashing in a blaze of orange. They sped up from it, as the Doctor passed the phone back to Rose. "Call your boyfriend! See if he's got a way for us to get out of here."

Rose only nodded, flicking a button and holding the device up to her ear. Pete could hear someone on the other end yelling as Rose nodded.

"Head for the roof," she called and the Doctor grinned, climbing the stairs, dragging Rose along behind. Pete gasped, trying to keep up with the pair, regretting for the briefest of moments the fatty lunches and pints of lager Jackie was always on him about. He kept his legs moving, the rumbling sound of distant explosions vibrating the building.

They came up to the roof of the building. Hovering over it was Lumic's own zeppelin. Even the Doctor stopped to stare at it as Rose laughed in delight watching it above them. She still held her phone up to her ear. "Mickey," she cried, amazed. "Where'd you learn to fly that thing?"

Whatever his response was, Pete noticed one thing right off the bat. However well he might pilot it, he couldn't get it any lower to where they were at.

"He can't get down here to us. Zeppelins aren't designed to do that," the Doctor said, spinning around, perhaps looking for a higher point. The warehouse had none.

From underneath the zeppelins carriage, a panel opened and a rope ladder tumbled towards them. At its top the dark, smiling face of Mickey grinned at them. Pete stared at the fiber conveyance, his stomach lurching. Should now be a good time to point out he didn't do so well with heights?

"You've got to be kidding," he breathed as the Doctor grabbed it tight.

"Rose, get up," he ordered, as the girl did as she was told. She nimbly climbed up, scaling it quickly. The Doctor followed suit, glancing down to make sure that Pete followed.

"Hold on tight," Mickey yelled out from the depths of the air ship. "We're going up! Welcome to Mickey Smith's airline. Please enjoy your flight! Woo!"

They pulled away from the top of the Battersea warehouse just as Pete began to feel the full on vibrations of the explosions below.

"We did it! We did it!" Rose cheered from above him. But perhaps too soon, as the ladder jerked, causing them all to grasp it tightly, terror twisting in Pete's stomach. He looked down, afraid to see what had caused it.

Below him, the Controller clung on, and Pete thought he could see utter madness in those electronic eyes.

"Pete," the Doctor yelled. He turned up to the other man who held out his strange torch to him. "Take this! Use it! Hold the button down and press it against the rope!"

Pete took the device, staring at the Doctor in wild dubiousness.

"Just do it," the other man ordered roughly. Pete nodded, finding the button with his thumb and flicking it just as he pressed it to the thick, nylon fibers. He could hear it whining and whizzing even despite the growing explosions below, its tip glowing blue. Slowly, he could see the fibers begin to fray and break, much like the last shreds of his own will. He'd lost everything tonight; his career, his home, many of his friends. He'd lost the love of his life. Even if she had survived whatever the Doctor had done, the fires rumbling below them in their deep orange and yellow would be consuming her right now. His Jackie was truly gone.

"Jackie Tyler," he cried, glaring down at what was left of Lumic below. "This if for her!"

The rope gave way, and the Controller slipped and fell, a totally human scream sounding from his electronic speaker. The figure plunged, down, down, and was swallowed in a plume of flame as it finally gave way and exploded fully. Pete watched him go, a growing coldness spreading across his middle.

"Pete," the Doctor called, and he turned to stare up at him. The other man regarded him with haunted sympathy. "Give me your hand. I'll lift you up."

For half a moment, Pete thought about it. He could just let go there. He too could fall into the abyss, let the flames consume him as he fell. But he glanced at Rose, who watched him with pleading eyes, and found he couldn't. Instead, he nodded and reached up to the Doctor with the strange device in his hand. Carefully, the other man pulled him upwards, as Rose began to scale the ladder up to the top.

When they all three made it inside, they found Mickey behind the wheel, Jake watching the events below gleefully. Mickey looked so proud of himself he might bust, and Rose rushed to him, throwing her arms around him. Pete watched the display curiously. He'd have thought, given what he had seen of Rose and the Doctor, that she'd be throwing herself at him, not the boy. He glanced sideways at the man, who was busying himself pointedly with whatever Jake was doing, ignoring the other two as he neatly tucked his glowing device into his pocket.

"The power station is gone," the Doctor observed, turning to stare hard at Pete. "Even if she survived…"

"Jackie's dead." Pete cut him off harshly, more than he intended to. Rose and Mickey turned and he could see the sadness on both of their faces. "She was gone before I could even get there to save her."

"I'm so sorry," the Doctor murmured. And somehow, Pete knew that he was. The aching hurt he had witnessed earlier rang in the Doctor's words and he wondered again who in the hell this man was who carried around that pain with him and still managed to do what he did that night.

"Yeah." Pete felt too tired and empty to say anything else. "Yeah."


	8. Chapter 8

They landed at Lumic's airstrip. The place was deserted, but in the distance they could see the glow of the Battersea fires and the hear the growing panic of horns and sirens, as escaping people created mass chaos in the streets, trying to figure out what was going on. Rose immediately logged into the network on her phone and it appeared to be just as chaotic with the Cybus servers down.

"Lumic would have used the network to get everyone to Battersea. Chances are that their earpods don't work. The entire communication network is down." Pete stared hard into the darkness. They had all been so dependent on their communication system. It was how Lumic had played them all.

"Who would be in charge of it now?" The Doctor asked.

"I don't know," Pete admitted, thinking of the disembodied voice and the sixty five hundred people already gone. "Chances are whoever it's supposed to be is dead."

His entire world was changed, overnight. Yesterday, he'd been a man of power and influence, with a glamorous wife and a secret life as a spy. Today, he wasn't even sure who was alive anymore, what parts of that life even remained. They were all going to be stuck like that, trying to figure out what their place was in this new world that John Lumic had left behind, formed because he was too afraid to die.

"What's going to happen now?" Rose wrapped her arms around herself. It occurred to Pete just how very cold it was outside. It was only February, six weeks till spring. The girl shivered.

"It's going to be chaos for a while," he admitted. "If the Vice President made it, she'll have to take over. That's if she lived. She might have done. Harriet was never one for the earpods, always said they made her ears itch."

The Doctor blinked at him curiously, a small smile tugging at his face. "Harriet? Not Harriet Jones?"

"Yeah?" Pete frowned at him as if it should be obvious. "She was on Cain's ticket. Surely you heard about that?"

"Nope, missed that! Not from around these parts." The Doctor turned to Rose with a grin. "So, Harriet Jones will be President in this world. How about that? Hope she turns out better than our Harriet Jones did. She would have been a fabulous Prime Minister if she hadn't ignored me and killed the Sycorax."

His words jolted Pete. He remembered what they had said earlier about another universe, saying something about "our world". He stared wildly between them, but the Doctor was already caught up in himself again, turning towards the young man Pete now realized was named Mickey, not Ricky. "Somewhere back at the mansion is my suit." He plucked at the tuxedo he wore with mild distaste. "Think I left it in a guest toilet. You and Jake, can you go and fetch it for me?"

"What? Don't you have another? You want me to be your errand boy?" Mickey's whinging immediately, clearly put out with this task.

"You just saved the world, Mickey Smith! What are you complaining about?" The Doctor shot back. "The roads are clear at the moment, everyone's in the heart of the city, it will take you what, forty-five minutes? Bet Jake with his driving skills can get you there and back in an hour. Gives me time to work on the TARDIS."

He spun to face Pete as Mickey pouted and glanced at Jake, who shrugged gamely and eyed one of the large, military style security jeeps parked empty beside them. The Doctor ignored them as he studied Pete speculatively. "If I got a car running for you, can you take me to my ship?"

His ship? "Like a spaceship?"

"Well, more like a time and space ship, but yeah." the Doctor shrugged, as if it were inconsequential. "I have the power cell, it should be charged now and I need to get her back home."

Pete didn't think he could take any more madness that day, but there it was. This strangely named, insane man had a time and space ship. Something about it all just made him laugh; an aching, hysterical laugh. "Sure, mate, whatever...I just...of all the things I've seen tonight, I'd be willing to take you to your ship."

"Brilliant!" Out came his strange device, glowing as he aimed it at the jeep closest to Jake. It started without a hitch. "Mind, keep that thing going when you run inside the house, else you won't be able to turn it on again to get back."

Jake looked stunned, but Mickey looked hardly surprised. "Sure, boss! Be back soon as we can." He climbed in before Jake could protest, and jerked his head at the other man. Jake quietly climbed inside, looking as if he were afraid the car might burst into flames around him.

"Meet us at the TARDIS, right," the Doctor called as Mickey peeled out of the parking lot and into the darkened street. "Will be a wonder if he doesn't kill himself."

"Doctor," Rose protested, though she looked as if she half agreed with him.

"Off we go!" He ignored her, flashing his device at the next jeep. It too started with a rumble. Pete stared at it, confused as to what it was even doing.

"What is that?"

"This?" The Doctor held it up as if it were simply a pen or a butter knife. "It's my sonic screwdriver."

"Your sonic...screwdriver?" Pete stared at it. It didn't look like much of a screwdriver.

"Well, it's more than just a screwdriver, yeah, it does so many other interesting things, like welding things, and heating things, and…"

"Screwing things." Rose offered with a teasing grin, her tongue peeking between her teeth.

The Doctor flushed, clearly put out with her interruption and her innuendo. "It's a dead useful device, is what it is."

Pete reached a hand out for it, curious. He'd always been handy with electronics and such, had a knack for it as a kid, but he'd never seen anything like this. The Doctor obliged, allowing him to study it, flipping it round and round.

"It works with sonic technology," the Doctor explained, as if he was showing off his first born. "Everything has a frequency that reacts to sonic waves. You resonate them the right way, you can make all sorts of things happen."

"Like make your toaster explode," Rose offered again, chortling at the Doctor's annoyed expression. Pete watched the pair of them, considering. Whoever this Doctor was and whoever this girl was, how they could be so light hearted after what they had seen that night was beyond him. But then, he reasoned, perhaps that was how they coped with it, the tragedy of it, this banter. Lord knows he'd do the same thing if it were him, crack a joke, be a smartass, anything not to feel that horror.

"I'd love to look at something like this, sometime." Pete handed it back to its owner. "It would be a revolutionary product."

"Oh, Pete," the Doctor sighed, a faint smile on his thin face. "Good, old Pete! Always the schemer and planner. It's so good to see you succeed at it all this time around. But I can't. Not this. I think your world has had enough problems with technology it couldn't handle."

This time around? Pieces were falling into place, but he was almost too afraid to consider what it all meant, what the presence of these two meant for his reality. Not that there was much of it left, not after tonight.

"Come on," Pete growled, turning towards the running car. "Let me get you to your spaceship, yeah?"

They climbed inside the vehicle in silence. Clearly, even if the Doctor wasn't from around there he knew London enough to find his way. He guided them to a park not far from the river, with a quaint rock building that had been put there sometime during the Old Queen's reign as a lookout for water traffic up and down the Thames. There was nothing spectacular about any of it. It was just a small patch of grass with newspapers floating across it, frail as ghosts, and sprawling oaks that hung over an old, blue police box, the kind kind like Pete hadn't seen since he was a kid.

"So, I guess that your ship is somewhere around here?" Pete looked around, but didn't find evidence of anything even so much as a zeppelin. The Doctor nodded enthusiastically.

"That's her! The blue box. Camouflage." He climbed out, eagerly making his way across the lawn to where the box stood. He pulled a key out of his pocket and inserted it in, going inside. It was dark, whatever it was. Pete glanced at Rose dubiously.

"He's not making it up, believe me." She laughed, a broad smile that made even him grin. Despite himself, he liked her, this crazy girl that seemed to take it in stride.

"How does a good girl like you end up in madness like this?" He couldn't help but wonder about her.

She blushed, shrugging. "I don't know. Just sort of happened. One day I went to work, like always, and this bloke showed up and blew it up. Turns out aliens were invading the store and he was saving the world." She snorted, rubbing her forehead as she considered what she just said. "Does that sound as mad to you as it did saying it?"

Pete chuckled. "Yeah, it kinda did, but on a night like tonight I'm willing to believe just about anything, me."

"Aliens don't scare you then?"

He shrugged at her speculative look and decided not to mention the fact that he worked with a research institute that dealt with aliens everyday. "Guess after Cybermen, no."

"Right." She sobered, turning to stare at her feet in her trainers. "Anyway, I started traveling with the Doctor after that. Was better than what I had going on, living on the estates, working a dead end job. At least with this, I could go somewhere, see some stuff, do good things. Get to know people. Help them out. Be and do something more than just live on tea and toast and telly every night."

Pete studied this girl, this stranger who blundered into his world. She was so full of life, so eager and curious and wanting to see the world. She wanted to do great things, to be so much bigger than her chavvy roots. And she reminded him painfully of someone else he used to know, a long, long time ago. And that thought terrified him. His instincts screamed at him, told him he was right, that all this talk of others worlds, of Harriet Jones as a Prime Minister, of the way the girl looked at Jackie, of how she reacted when she discovered her fate, of the way she warmed to Pete. He knew it in his gut, and he didn't want to know it. Not now. Not tonight.

Banging sounded from inside the box and what sounded like cursing. Rose jumped at the sound, glancing towards the open doors. "You all right?"

"Yes!" Was the hissed response.

She smiled, rolling her eyes. "He gets like that."

Pete nodded, staring into the darkened door, not seeing how the Doctor could be up to anything. Just as suddenly as the thought occurred to him, however, the box lit up with a golden glow, filling the cold night with light. Above its doors, the "police box" sign came to life. 

It was amazing...and beautiful.

And the thought of what it represented rankly terrified him.

"So, what happens inside that thing?" He laughed, nervously.

"Do you want to see?"

Yes, his brain said. But the terror of the night, of everything, of what happened got the better of him. Hadn't Yvonne said those things came from another universe, originally? "No, I don't think so." The question lay there in his mind, waiting to be asked. He might as well. Whatever else he did. "But you two, you know...all that stuff about different worlds. Who are you?"

Even before the girl said a word he knew the truth. He could see it in the arch of her eyebrow, in the way her eyes flickered as she searched for words. And it hit him in the gut with the utter unfairness of it all.

"It's like you say," she replied, her lips pulling back in a tight, nervous smile. "Imagine there are different worlds, parallel worlds. Worlds with another Pete Tyler, and Jackie Tyler's still alive...and their daughter."

Jackie...still alive somewhere...and with his daughter. This...this he couldn't live with, not now, now knowing this so soon after his wife died. Not fair, not fair, not fair…

"I've got to go," he murmured, despite the utter hurt on the girl's face. His feet were already stumbling back from her.

"But if you look inside," she pleaded.

"No, I can't!" He knew it was an excuse, afraid of the temptation, of the enticement of what she was offering. Not like this, not with Jacks' ashes barely cooling somewhere in Battersea. "There are all those Lumic factories, all those Cybermen still in storage. Someone's got to tell the authorities, carry on the fight."

The disappointment from Rose was palatable. From the door, he could hear the Doctor call, softly. "Rose, I only have five minutes of power. We've got to go."

She was offering him a second chance, he knew it. But not with his wife. Not with the woman he had fallen in love with.

"The Doctor could show you," Rose insisted.

He couldn't do this. He turned, wanting to run, his mind already fracturing under the weight of everything.

"Thank you," he called, a part of him truly feeling that emotion, of knowing what these two did for the world. "For everything."

"Dad," Rose called. It lanced through Pete, right to his gut, aching nearly as badly as Jackie's brain in the cyber body had.

"Don't!" He looked at her, begging her not to say it again. "Just...don't."

Despite the tears in her eyes, he turned and ran. He was three blocks away when he heard the sound of gears grinding and something wheezing and groaning. He slowed then, turning to see a flash of light that disappeared as suddenly as it had come. And he knew in his heart that the Doctor and the girl, Rose, who claimed to be his daughter, were gone.

He wandered after that, not caring where. The streets were still quiet, eerily so, though he could hear more chaos in the distance. He wondered if the stragglers were making their way home. He walked and walked; through shopping districts, all their lights still on, their window displays looking as if nothing was wrong, past residential flats, still glowing with ghostly televisions, playing to empty rooms, a cinema where the doors stood open, the marque still lit for business. On and on he walked, for miles, more than he knew. And it was only when the eastern sky began to turn the faintest of pearly grays did he look up and find himself in a neighborhood he knew like the back of his hand. The old building was just as square and gray as it had ever been been. The plaza still smelled of spilled beer , rancid garbage and hung over vomit. With aching steps, he crossed to the familiar stairs, up the four flights, down five doors to the one that he had stormed out of so many years ago. That had been the start. That had changed everything, that night had.

The door was wide open, the occupants still missing. He stepped inside, looking it over. The layout was different now, the way they did their furniture. The couch he used to make love to his wife on was gone, now replaced by a well worn, functional sofa where someone's forgotten knitting lay. The picture that had once hung on the wall till Jackie had tossed a vase at him and broke it was now replaced by a different photograph, one of a retired looking couple. Their television still blared, however, as if trying to reach its likely nearly deaf occupants. A frantic looking newscaster was on, jabbering about the chaos and confusion in the city center. Pete reached across and turned it off. Silence reigned in the tiny home.

He walked back out again, closing but not locking the door, in case the occupants returned. It wasn't till he was down the steps again and across the plaza that he realized he was crying. It wasn't till he was down the block that it occurred to him he was sobbing. By the time he reached the bend in the road he was howling, his grief ringing off the stained concrete, his legs giving way as he fell to the cobblestones and pavement and openly wept. Hot tears burst through screwed up eyelids as covered his head with his arms, curled in on himself, and wished that he too could have died.

He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. How long he had been there, he wasn't sure. The sun was fully up by then, but the streets were still just as eerily still. Some life was back, some voices in the distance, names called, the cry of a mother, or brother, or child. Pete blinked, wondering what had woken him.

A rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him over and shaking him. " _Oi_ , Pete, can't be lying here like this."

Pete blinked through gummy eyes up at the round, dark face of Mickey Smith. His brain buzzed in a foggy confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing, lying in the street like that! Thought you was dead!" Mickey snorted, shoving a mug of something hot and pungent under his nose. "Coffee! Gran's! Drink up."

Pete didn't even have enough brain cells to question it. He peeled his cheek off the pavement, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Dust and grease coated his skin and his suit felt as if he'd drug it through a swamp, despite the chill air. He took the mug and sipped it. The coffee was dark, strong and had the flavor of burnt rubber tires, but it had the effect of waking him up.

"Yeah, always did taste like it would eat through metal, but don't tell Gran that." Mickey smirked fondly as he squatted in front of Pete.

"Gran? Your Gran?" Pete was finding the thread of reality was unraveling around him fast.

"Well, Ricky's Gran, yeah. But, she's the same as my Gran. Even down to the way she smacks me in the head." Mickey rubbed the back of his close shaved head gingerly. "Still stings."

"She's still here?" Pete looked wildly up and down the street, not seeing a soul, but hearing a television somewhere.

"Well, she's in the house." Mickey pointed to the door just behind him. "That's it. She was asleep last night when everything happened, took her earpods out. Missed the whole thing, she did, and then slapped me when I tried to tell her the truth."

Didn't even notice the world go upside down? Pete marveled as he glanced towards the door. "And she doesn't realize you aren't Ricky?"

"Well look and sound just like him, don't I?" Mickey shrugged, hardly looking ashamed. "Gran went blind when I was fifteen, I'm guessing the same happened here. She wouldn't notice."

Pete thought of Rose. Something deep inside of him rumbled with rejection of what Mickey was at. "She's not your grandmother, Mickey."

"She is in all but fact, isn't she?" He cocked his head, hardly looking ashamed by what he was doing. "Besides, her Ricky is dead. And she's all alone now. He'd take care of her if he were here, but he ain't. So who is? I'm all she's got."

It seemed so wrong, felt so wrong, this imposter as this poor woman's grandson. "You should tell her the truth."

"And what? Break her heart?" Mickey glared at him hard. "Ricky weren't the greatest of grandsons when he were alive. Neglected her. Same as I did my Gran and believe me, when mine died, I regretted that every moment afterwards. I know he'd want someone to make sure she was all right."

Pete wanted to protest further, but there was truth in the boy's words, for all that they bothered him. All he wanted to do was take care of the grandmother of his double. And if she were blind, like he said, like as not she would never notice. She'd be alone otherwise.

"Fine," he muttered, gulping down another mouthful of the hot, putrid liquid. "So you stayed to take care of your Gran? You didn't go home with the Doctor and Rose?"

"Nah." He shook his head, setting on the pavement beside Pete, pushing his back against the concrete wall. "They do good enough on their own without me. Don't need Mickey the Idiot, the tin dog, 'round to get in the way of their fun."

There was more than a hint of bitterness in the boy's voice. He recalled the night before, the way Rose was so familiar with Mickey, but the intimacy that she displayed around the Doctor. She likely wasn't even aware she was doing it, the mixed signals. She perhaps didn't even understand the hurt she was causing a young man who seemed to be rather attached to her.

"The Doctor come in and steal your girl, then?" Pete asked it lightly, trying to tell himself he really didn't care about knowing more about Rose or her life.

"Something like that," Mickey muttered, shrugging as he tipped his head back to look at the sky. "I was a normal bloke once. Had a job at a garage, messed about with computers on the side, dated a nice girl, had a normal life. And then one day, this mad alien in a blue box shows up in my life and turns it all upside down."

"The Doctor is an alien?" Pete would never have guessed that looking at him. He appeared as human as Pete did. Well, except for those dark eyes. Those looked alien...foreign. Too old for such a young, handsome face.

"Oh, yeah," Mickey laughed. "Something called Time Lords. Pompous prats is what I call them. I guess he's all that's left of them or something. Anyway, he shows up one day, swoops Rose off with him, doesn't bother bringing her back for a year. Next thing you know, there's aliens flying into Big Ben and blowing up Downing Street, and space ships showing up on Christmas Day, and bat things taking over high schools. Madness, I tell you."

For long moments, Pete was silent, stunned at Mickey's disgruntlement. And then, it bubbled up. First a giggle. Then a snort. Then a long, loud, belly laugh that rang in the stillness around them. Aliens! That he could handle, those he knew. It just tickled him so much to hear Mickey carry on, as if Cybermen were nothing. He wasn't even terribly sure why he found it all so funny.

"You think it's hilarious," Mickey muttered, darkly. "I was up for murder suspicion 'cause Jackie had the word out in the neighborhood I'd kidnapped and killed her daughter."

The name of his dead wife sobered him. Mickey said it so casually, as if he knew her intimately. Perhaps, in his world, he had. "You knew Rose's family, then? Back in your world?"

"Yeah," Mickey snorted, meeting Pete's sharp gaze. "I know you want to ask. She's probably told you. Her name is Rose Tyler. Rose Marion Tyler. God's truth."

Rose Marion Tyler. His mother had been named Marion. He'd always wanted to use it, if he'd had a daughter. "And her parents were…"

"Her parents are Pete and Jackie Tyler." Mickey gave Pete a hard look. "Yeah, she's just what she told you."

"She's not my daughter," he snapped, anger rising before he could stop himself. The coffee sloshed over the rim and he switched hands, flicking it off.

"No, she's not," Mickey surprisingly agreed. "Her dad's dead."

Pete stopped, whipping around to regard Mickey's stony face. "What did you say?"

"Pete Tyler, the Pete I knew, died when Rose was just a baby."

Pete stared at the boy. He was dead in another universe? Had been for what, ttwenty years, give or take, judging the girl's age. "And Jackie?"

"Oh, she's alive and well. Still on the estate." Mickey's face softened as he chuckled. "The only other woman who'd slap me when I needed it, which was most of the time, judging by how often she done it. Jackie Tyler was mean."

The slapping. That sounded like Jackie. "So, she's alone back there, in your world?"

"Yeah," Mickey nodded. "I mean, Rose goes back and visits, but not enough if you ask me. Too busy running through space with the Doctor."

The idea that Jackie was alive and well in another universe ached deep within him. He thought of Rose's offer. Now he knew why she had made it. Her mother was alone. And her father was gone, never had been in her life. No wonder she had stared at him as if he was equal parts myth and mystery.

"How did it happen?" He had to know. As much as it sounded macabre to ask, he had to know.

"What? Her dad dying?"

"Yeah," Pete pressed, despite the discomfort on the other man's face.

"I don't remember much," Mickey admitted. "I wasn't but five or so. Was at a wedding, Sarah Clark. You know her?"

The name rang a bell. A dark haired woman, one of Jackie's close friends back in the day. "Yeah, Sarah. Married some guy named Stu, didn't she? His family outclassed her a bit, but he'd got her up the duff and he wanted to do right by her."

"Yeah, that's her," Mickey nodded. "In our world they got married and moved out and had a house full of babies. Still married and living in the suburbs, I hear, happy as clams."

"Not the Sarah and Stu I know," Pete sniffed, thinking on what the last bit of gossip he'd heard from Jackie was. "He was caught stepping out on her and she left with the kid and got a big fat alimony settlement from him."

Mickey whistled, shaking his head. "What a difference a world makes."

"Yeah, 'cause in your world, I have a daughter and I'm dead. How did it happen?"

"The daughter? There you're on your own, mate." Mickey held up his hands.

"The dead part, Mickey."

"Right," he sighed, giving in. "Anyway, Sarah Clark's wedding. I was there with Gran, but she'd stepped out. I don't know what happened. I just know I was there with Jackie when everything went down."

Mickey paused, a sad, far-away look in his eye as he looked anywhere but Pete. "Like I said, I wasn't more than just a little kid. I don't know what happened. Jackie said later she thought maybe you had realized you left something in the car. Maybe it was the wedding present, I don't know. All anyone knows is that you were in the middle of the street when a car hit you."

Mickey used the world "you", but Pete couldn't think of it in terms of himself. It was a stranger, some other man who carried his face and name, who had been unlucky enough to be hit outside of a wedding at a church. A wedding he could remember going to in this life, where no such thing had happened. But then, he'd been rich then already, still just flush in cash. He and Jackie had gotten the couple a set of silverware from Harrods or something.

"I don't know for sure how it all happened," Mickey continued. "I didn't see nothing. But I won't forget Jackie's scream." His voice dropped, his expression so grave.

"I was standing with her and Rose. I just remember her screaming. Like to tear your ears off, you would have, if you'd heard it. Don't think I've heard Jackie make a noise like that since. Screaming 'Pete' over and over, Rose in her arms. Gran found me by then, held me back, but I could still hear her crying and wailing." Mickey rested his forearms on his bent knees. "You were dead before the ambulance got there. Nothing they could do. Rose was just a baby and Jackie had to take care of her. She don't talk about it much, but it was hard. Real hard."

Pete listened to Mickey's story quietly, thinking of his own pain and grief at the loss of his wife of twenty years. That was unbearable. But even in that, he knew their love wasn't what it had been. It sounded, from Mickey's story at least, that the Jackie he knew had lost him in their prime, before the bitter years could build the distance between them. Worse, he had left her with their daughter, a child that this other Jackie wasn't afraid to have. And she had to bury all the grief, carry on, if nothing else to see that their daughter lived and survived. She had turned into the amazing young woman he met the night before. The brilliant, courageous, insane young girl he had identified with, because she was so very much like he had been once upon a time. And he had rejected her, had pushed her away, when all she wanted was to get to know him, some version of the man she had longed for all of her life.

"I'm a right arsehole," Pete muttered, downing the rest of the bitter liquid in one gulp. Mickey watched him in amused silence, taking back the heavy mug when he was done with it.

"Why? Because you ran away from her when she told you that you were her dad? Mate, I've seen lesser men do the same when kids they didn't even know about show up, with women they slept with decades before. It's all over the telly, usually."

"But this is different," Pete spat, thinking of the hurt on Rose's face, the raw longing he saw when she watched Jackie. "I mean, I'm not her dad, not really. I didn't make her. My Jackie didn't want to have anything to do with kids. But...I just couldn't."

Mickey sighed sympathetically. "Look, no offense, but you just had your wife and most of your friends die because your boss was insane. Not exactly the best time to have that dumped on you, yeah? Can't say I blame you."

Well, that was somewhat encouraging, he thought. "But you still kind of want to punch me in the face, don't you?"

"You made Rose cry, of course, I do! But in all fairness, so did I when I said I was staying. I mean, we'd known each other all our lives. I think she just thought I'd stick around, waiting for her forever."

There was the bitterness again. Poor bloke. He'd had it bad for the girl. "That takes guts, walking away from someone you love." He thought of Jackie and their separation.

"Yeah, well I think she just thought I'd always be there when she needed. I don't think she realized she didn't need me. She hadn't for a long time." Mickey sounded sad, but not regretful, at this realization. "And the truth is, I needed her. I needed her to feel like somebody. But I wasn't what she needed. Me, I was happy just fixing cars, doing nothing with my life. But Rose, she was always bigger than that. Even before the Doctor swanned off with her. I think she was trying to tell me that I could be bigger than that, too, if I wanted. But I was always too afraid, too scared. Rose, she's always been brave about things like that. Guess, I just needed a little bit of a push."

Pete considered last nights events, how shocked Rose had been at Mickey's bravery. "Everyone has to grow up." Even him, he thought sadly. "So, what are you going to do with yourself now, Mickey Smith? Take care of your Gran?"

"Yeah," Mickey nodded. "And maybe...maybe join the Preachers. Hook up with Jake to stop the Cybermen." He dug into one of his pockets, pulling out Rose's regular mobile phone. "I still have the codes on this thing. I can do good work. I have computer skills. I may not be Ricky, using a gun, but if I can hack into Lumic's files, I can hack into anything. And I can do a fair bit of damage, right? Make my mark in the world. Do something good."

Something good. Rose had said something very like that. Pete stared at the phone and considered. This morning, he had wanted nothing more than to curl up in the street and die right there. But now, sitting on the pavement, talking to a boy who had spent his entire, gormless life panting after a girl he couldn't get, only to decide to do something great with his life, Pete felt slightly ashamed for what he had been doing. What would Jackie think of him like that? Likely, knowing Jackie, she'd have slapped him and then yelled at him for being useless.

"Where's Jake?" Pete finally asked, glancing at his wristwatch. That, at least, was not dependent on the network. It read nearly eight o'clock in the morning.

"He went back to Ricky's for a kip. Dropped me off nearby. Why?"

"He has a phone. Think you can call him later."

"Yeah. What for?"

"I have a plan," Pete murmured, wondering if he could dredge up anyone at Torchwood and if they were alive. "And I have resources, maybe, if Torchwood isn't annihilated."

"Torchwood? What's that?"

"Not something you've ever heard of, I'd wager." Pete pushed himself off the pavement, trying as best he could to brush off the dirt and filth of the night before, straightening his tie. Mickey scrambled up beside him, brushing off his own jeans. "Right. Think your Gran might have a bit of breakfast? Don't think anything will be open till things get settled down."

"She might, yeah." Mickey grinned, gathering the empty mug and leading the way across the street. "Might not want to tell her that you're the Pete Tyler, though. She may not believe it."

"Why not? Seriously, Cybermen in the streets and Pete Tyler showing up at her house is the strangest thing she's going to hear all day?"

"Good point," Mickey conceded, opening the door. "Gran! Guess who I've brought round for breakfast!"


	9. Chapter 9

After several hours of sleep and aiding Mickey in fixing the runner on his grandmother's stairsm Pete finally did manage to make it to Torchwood later that day. Once he got there, he found a scene of utter chaos in his wake. Not that it had been easy getting through to Canary Wharf. The heart of London was jammed with some people trying to get out and others trying to get in to find missing loved ones. The military had been roused from some corner of Great Britain, and now surrounded the city center. Despite using Ricky's car tucked away in his Gran's garage, Pete, Mickey and Jake had found it ultimately easier to get by on foot, with Pete using his face and name to get them past guards in one section to make it to the towering glass buildings in the distance.

Torchwood's lobby was open and many of its employees huddled there, some with families, all confused and lost as he wandered in. A few he recognized, like Yvonne Hartman's assistant. She sat on a couch, huddled by a man he didn't know, but surmised by the ring on her left hand he might be her husband.

"What's going on here," he murmured, staring at the the scene, wondering what in the world could be causing this.

"The military won't let us go home," one man said, ire clear in his voice. "Said the city is under martial law until they clear all of this up."

"I don't even know how I got here," another plump man in a comic book t-shirt muttered somewhat hysterically. "I was just going round to see my friends for some games, and when I woke up, I was standing in the middle of the street in a line of people I didn't know, miles from home."

"I was having dinner with my partner." A model thin woman with a nasty bruise forming along one perfect cheekbone nodded, looking just as lost, but also frightened. "We were chatting, and then I don't know what happened. And when I woke up, I was in the old power station in Battersea and she was gone. I don't know where she's gone to and I can't reach her!"

Pete glanced to Mickey and Jake, who looked equally sad about the poor woman's plight. Maybe her girlfriend made it. Maybe not. "I need to see if Miles is alive. My PA, he'd have a handle on this situation."

"What's he look look like?" Jake began scanning the space, his eyes narrowing across the huddled people.

"Blonde, glasses, military efficient." It was how Pete thought of him. It was only after that he realized how bad of a description it was.

"Sounds like your type," Mickey muttered, earning a hard look from Jake, before he snorted and punched the other man in the arm. Pete paused, considering Jake for a moment. It wasn't long, however, before he heard his name shouted from a balcony above. He spun around to look up and see Miles waving him up. Pete didn't think he'd been so happy to see his taciturn and acerbic PA alive before in his life.

"Come on," he told the other two, legging it for the stairs where people sat, scattered, as he tried not to tread on anyone's fingers. Miles met him at the top and Pete wasn't ashamed to say he hugged the man awkwardly once he got a hold of him.

"You're alive," he breathed, pulling away. Miles looked oddly flustered and at a loss as to what to do or say.

"You...are too?" He pulled himself together, glancing at Mickey and Jake with a hint of surprise. "And you have the Preachers in tow?"

"Part of them, yeah." Pete nodded back to them. "Jake Simmonds, Mickey Smith, this is Miles Conner, my personal assistant."

Miles recognized their names and faces instantly...well mostly. "Mickey?"

"Long story," Mickey shook it off, holding out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"You look familiar," Jake mused, studying him. Pete looked towards his PA, who only averted the statement.

"Might have seen me around, hard to say. Where's Mrs. Moore?"

"Dead." Jake uttered this with pained frankness. It occurred to Pete he hadn't even asked about her. "And her name was Angela Pryce. Her real one, that was. We'll need to tell her family."

Miles glanced at Pete who nodded. "Fine. But that may take some time. The CybusNet is down, has been since Battersea was blown to hell. Am I right in suspecting you may have had something to do with it?"

"Might have done" Pete pulled Miles with him away from the prying eyes of the civilians there. "Miles, what are all these people doing here?"

"Most are employees, stuck on this side of the city. The military has been in force here since even before the power station exploded, all from different places outside the city. Seems Lumic struck where he had plants first. Those too far away didn't get the signal."

"And the military are keeping all these people here? What for?"

"Trying to keep the peace or so they say. Harriet Jones is in charge now, but I think she's just scrambling to keep up with the situation."

"And Yvonne's not calling her off the ledge on this one? There is a human crises going on here and she's not trying to intervene?"

Miles paused, staring at Pete in shock. "You don't know?"

"Know what?" Pete shot back, before the penny finally dropped. "She didn't…"

"She hasn't been seen since last night. Hell, most of the Torchwood staff was caught up in this, Pete. They all had their earpods, standard Torchwood protocol. The only reason I didn't was because…"

"Your earpods were broken by the alien the other day."

"Exactly," Miles nodded.

"Alien," Mickey and Jake exclaimed in unison. Pete forgot that they were standing there, and he had yet to mention that part to either of them. Miles arched an eyebrow at the pair.

"Gentlemen, Torchwood is a research facility that specializes in the study of extraterrestrials." Pete looked pointedly at Mickey. "Something some of us have had more experience with than others."

Jake whipped a look at Mickey, who shrugged and muttered, "Tell you later."

"Right, now that we have that secret out, let's focus on the matter at hand." Miles cut in, still managing to be snippy despite his clear exhaustion. "The reason these people are trapped here, Pete, is because the government won't let them go home. And we, as Torchwood, have no way to make them listen to us because we are currently without a leader."

"So who is the next in line beyond Hartman?"

"Well, it would be either the head of research or the person in Yvonne's old position, but both are dead as far as we can tell."

"And no one from the board can be roused?"

"Most of them were at your party," Miles pointed out.

Bloody hell. Steven Cavanaugh, Jim Brickman, likely others. Those that had survived the initial attack likely didn't survive the power station.

"So where does that leave us?" Pete had a sad, sinking feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Well, sir, no offense, but you are standing here. And you have lots of people management experience."

Pete scoffed at his assistant. But Miles wasn't laughing. "You can't be serious."

"I think there are very few reasons for me to be joking in this situation."

"Miles, I can't do this. I'm a businessman!"

"And a leader, Pete. And people recognize your face. They trust you."

"They shouldn't," he snapped, glaring at the other man. "I've been a spy for Torchwood for years, earning the trust of the great of the good and reporting back to my superiors on all their plans. Spies aren't trustworthy people."

"No. But who else can do this?"

Miles bold fact was a slap of cold water in Pete's face. He was right, damn it. No one else could do it, take up the reins, not in this. He looked to Mickey and Jake, both of whom seemed utterly perplexed by what was going on. All they wanted to do was kill Cybermen. How in the hell could he make all of this work?

"Right. What do we know?" He turned back to his assistant, who was already pulling out a tablet and information on it.

"Our best estimates at the moment are numbers between five and ten thousand and that's just in the London area. Lumic has factories all over the world, and piecing together the intel we've gotten from the Preachers and other sources, my guess is that he's been stockpiling these robots for months, maybe years. He's built factories in areas like Rio, Mexico City, and Bangkok, places where the slum problem is so bad that no one would notice a few missing people of a day."

"So, he could have had whole armies of these things?"

"Chances are high they are still there, waiting inside the factories for their orders."

"We can free them of that," Mickey pipped up, holding up Rose's phone. "We've got the codes. We could jam their emotional whatever and let their heads explode!"

Pete thought of the poor souls from Battersea, who screamed and died in agony over what they had become. He felt himself turn slightly ill at the image, glancing at Miles, who graced Mickey with a look of thorough disgust. "Because, what, they aren't someone's son or daughter, husband or wife, or anything?" 

The younger man bowed his head, glancing at Jake, who looked equally as ashamed.

"I am guessing Jackie didn't make it," Miles added, glancing sidelong at Pete. It caught Pete short. His assistant had long hated his wife, and yet he was asking about her. All Pete could manage was a short, tight shake of his head, his jaw tightening.

"Right, well, let's just deal with what we got for now, shall we?" Miles jerked his head towards the glass, double doors. "I need to put you in contact with President Jones."

Pete balked at the suggestion, even as he followed his PA down the carpeted hallways. "But I'm not in charge."

"Someone's got to be, Pete, might as well be you," he countered with a giant grin. "Now, Frick and Frack! You coming?"

Mickey and Jake looked at Pete, uncertain as to if they even should. He grimaced and nodded, falling into step with Miles as they followed along quietly behind. The upper levels of Torchwood were still keycard sealed and compared to the lobby of the building, were peaceful and quiet. It would almost be hard to believe, looking about, that the entire world outside had changed. Even as he thought that, however, he caught sight of a television keyed into BBC news, which was now up and running more or less normally, despite the frantic expressions on everyone's faces. The screens were covered with frantic statements, thousands presumed dead or missing, loved ones lost, frantic family and friends wandering the streets, people trapped and unable to get home. 

Pete had no office in this building, never needed one. He only typically went in to speak to Yvonne and kept his offices at the Vitex building nearby. It occurred to him as they made their way through the floors that he had no idea where he would even make this phone call. How in the world could he carry any weight with now President Jones if all she even knew about him was that he was the man on the adverts selling health tonics?

"We'll use the main conference room. It's got a direct line to the palace, shouldn't be as affected by the network issues." Miles bustled into the large, chrome and wood space, covered in monitors. Outside of the glass windows, he could see in the streets, the people, the tanks, the fear palatable in the air.

"It's mad, this is." Beside him Mickey looked out over London. "All those people in one small space like this."

Pete nodded, grimly. "Harriet Jones is a fair woman. We'll get them home."

"She's alright," Mickey sniffed. "In our world, she was a bit batty, but meant well enough. Made the Doctor angry, though, and he had her removed as Prime Minister."

Pete considered the scrawny, manic man he met. He hardly looked as if he'd have the power enough to remove anyone from office, and yet he witnessed him take down John Lumic with nothing more than a sonic screwdriver and a giant gob that didn't know how to quit. There was power in that man, immense power. He'd felt it sitting in that van as he vowed to bring down the Cybermen.

"How did he manage it," Pete finally asked.

"Huh?" Mickey grunted, preoccupied by what was outside.

"The Doctor. How did he remove her from office?"

"Dunno," Mickey replied, still watching the scene below. "He said something to her aid and next thing you know they had a vote of no-confidence 'cause of her health. I guess he brought it up."

"That all it took?"

"Yeah, a coup d'etat with just six words."

"Your Doctor is a powerful man. Scary when you think about it."

"Yeah," Mickey admitted. "Not gonna lie. Death and destruction usually lie in his wake."

"And you leave your girlfriend in the hands of someone like that?"

Mickey didn't seemed as bothered by the idea as Pete suddenly felt. "He'd die before let something happen to Rose. And besides, it's like your PA over there was saying. Sometimes, someone's got to step up and do the hard bits, whether they like it or not. That's the Doctor. He sort of...floats around the universe, through all space and time, and ends up finding these hard bits. And he tries to fix them, yeah? Tries to make them better. And sometimes that means he's in the thick of it, like with this. Him, me, and Rose, we was just traveling, messing around, supposed to go to some planet with these beautiful deserts, right? And we end up in a different dimension helping you lot out."

"Quite by accident?"

"Yeah, funny how that works," Mickey acknowledge, glancing to where Miles and Jake were on the landline phone, attempting to patch through a video conference to Buckingham Palace. "Thing is, he only ended up at your house cause of Rose. She wanted to see you. See if you lived up to her expectations, I guess."

"And do I?" Pete couldn't help but blurt that out. Not that he should care what some girl who wasn't his real daughter would think of him. He likely wouldn't ever even see the girl again.

Mickey studied him for a long, measured moment. "Tell you what. You do right by these people down there and stand up for them with Harriet Jones, and I bet you would."

Pete couldn't decide if the boy had an amazing amount of cheek or was a lot smarter than he liked to let on to people. "This is all madness, you know."

"Yeah, and so is turning people into robots and having daughters from other universes show up on your doorstep, but it happens." Mickey slapped him on the shoulder. "You got this, boss. Me and Jake, we'd like to help, if we can."

He didn't know this boy, had hardly gotten to know his predecessor, Ricky, but for whatever reason, his vote of confidence felt good. "Thanks."

"Pete!" Miles called. He turned towards the monitor where a live video feed was in progress. Belatedly, Pete considered his appearance. He hadn't showered since the morning before, his designer suit had seen better days, and his skin felt grimed with sweat, smoke, and whatever had been on the street as he lay there. But he made the best of it, straightening his tie and moving in front of the video camera. On the other end he could see people milling about, most of President Cain's cabinet as a matter of fact. In the middle of all of it sat Harriet Jones, looking slightly stunned and overwhelmed by it all.

"Can you hear me over there?" Pete caught their attention. President Jones waved at them to be quiet. She stared at the monitor, quite surprised.

"Pete Tyler? Is that you?"

"Yes, Madam President," he called, deciding it was best to use her official title, get off on the right foot.

Another member of the cabinet, he thought the man's name was Oliver - was it his first or last - spoke up from the back. "What in the blazes are you doing in Torchwood?"

Pete glanced at Miles, who nodded encouragingly. "As of right now, I am running it."

A general rumble came from the other side as the President's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You? Why?"

"Well, because all other high ranking Torchwood personnel are dead," he replied, feeling some of himself coming back, the Pete Tyler assertiveness if not his charm. "Or so we presume. They are missing. Yvonne Hartman has not been accounted for, nor have any of the members of her directorship."

"This still doesn't answer my question, Mr. Tyler." President Jones cut in distractedly. "Last I heard you were the head of a soft drink company."

"Health tonic," he corrected.

"Whatever, by whose authority do you sit in Torchwood now?"

"The fact that I am perhaps one of the most senior people here with any knowledge of what's been going on. I've got twenty years field experience for Torchwood, and frankly, I've been at the heart of this matter since the beginning, so with all due respect, Madam President, there's no one else left to take the job."

He glanced at Miles who nodded grimly.

"You're Torchwood?" Jones blinked in shocked surprised on the other side of the screen, along with all the other members of her cabinet. "All this time?"

"How else do you think a no-nothing from the estates makes good with his own company. I mean, honestly, it's just sugar water with vitamins, and that story is almost too good to believe."

"I believed it," she replied, sounding somewhat hurt, and he wished he had more time to feel bad about it.

"I'd apologize, but we have more pressing issues, like the thousands trapped behind our military line. It will be a human catastrophe soon if we don't get them out of here."

"We are well aware, Mr. Tyler, but with the situation as it is, and we have no intel on what has been going on."

"I do," he shot back, cutting her off. "I do because I was in the heart of it. It was John Lumic."

"Lumic?" Another member of the group surrounding the President interjected. "Creating robots to set on the world?"

"Worse," Pete corrected, grimly. "Taking people, human beings, and using their brains in cybernetic bodies. Creating an army, a world of his own, with no sickness, no war, no death. He was trying to create his idea of utopia." It had been idealistic, that was for sure, perhaps with the best of intentions, for all that it took no consideration for human will into it.

"Why?" President Jones was unable to conceal the horror in her voice.

"Because he was dying," Pete replied, softly. "Because he wanted to live. And he didn't want anyone to stand in the way, least of all the President of Great Britain."

He could see the gears click for Harriet. "He had a meeting with Lumic yesterday."

"Regarding his new technology," Pete affirmed. "I was there. He didn't agree to it. And so Lumic acted. He used the earpods from his company through the network that he created to force everyone into his factories. And the one in Battersea isn't the only one. There are several across the world where he's been stockpiling these Cybermen, perhaps for years."

"And you are sure of this."

Miles spoke up then. "Torchwood has the intel on all of this. I'll make it available to your office as soon as I can."

"Torchwood? How did you know about it when even MI5 hadn't a whiff of this?"

"Would you have honestly suspected someone as respectable as Lumic with something as heinous as this?" Pete retorted, perhaps a tad tetchy, but too tired to care. "And besides, Torchwood had its reasons for keeping an eye on Lumic. The technology he was using was from our research labs, made available to him by several previous directors. All the advances he came up with were due to technology he'd been given license to."

"And so Torchwood spied on him." President Jones quickly supplied. "You were sent to spy on him?"

Pete wasn't about to deny the truth now. "Yeah, I was. I was assigned to sell my company to Lumic and earn his trust, begin working as his right hand man and see what I could find out."

"You bloody well didn't find out enough, did you?" Someone in the back, just off screen, called sarcastically.

"Mi>Oi, he knew more than your lot. He was working his best to get the truth out there! Just you all weren't listening!" Jake stepped in, narrow eyes cutting at the President.

"Jake," Pete hissed in warning.

"No! I didn't see any of the government stepping in when we tried to say something? Instead they just bought into Lumic's side, called us anarchists, and then tried to have us arrested."

"For parking tickets," Mickey whispered, earning a dirty look from Jake.

"Who is this," President Jones demanded.

Pete glared at the pair, who looked somewhat sheepish now that they had made a scene. "These two are all that remain of a small, protesting group of hackers known as the Preachers."

"The anarchist group?"

Jake glowered loftily at the screen. "We were post-modern prophets speaking the truth to power, _ta._ "

"Yeah, the anarchist group," Pete confirmed, wearily. "They were part of my information system."

"No wonder Lumic got away with it all," someone on the other end muttered.

"I'm sure there were many reasons for why Lumic got away with it and we will have plenty of time to decide who could have done what better." Jones' voice was steely as she glared around her room. "But for now, Mr. Tyler is right, we have a crises on our hands. You are certain that the robots, these Cybermen, are neutralized for now?"

"The ones in Battersea, yes," Pete assured her. "We were able to get the code. We have a phone that has it on there and are able to override the network. Lumic was able to do what he did by creating an emotional inhibitor circuit that overrode any human emotions the brain might be feeling. The code bypasses that program, nullifying it."

"And how does that stop them?"

Pete felt his stomach go queasy at this bit, remembering all too well the anguished cries from the poor souls who saw themselves suddenly in metal bodies, and the horror they displayed at discovering they were no longer human. "When they realize they aren't in their bodies anymore...it...they can't handle that emotion. Most of them simply died from it."

It was grim, not pleasant to think about, and Pete could see the effect it had on the room on the other side.

"And...they still knew who they were?"

He thought of Jackie in her metallic body. He wondered if she thought of him. Likely, she went mad instantly, seeing what happened to her. "Yeah. They did."

"Those were people in those bodies," President Jones whispered. "People with lives and feelings."

"Likely about seven thousand of them in Battersea, Madame President. I saw them."

"And all of them just dead?" The President looked as if she were going to be sick. Pete could only nod, mutely.

"And you say there are more of them stuffed away in Lumic's warehouses?" It was the Oliver fellow again, his dark eyes beady from his jowly face. "Do you have any idea how many we are looking at?"

Pete glanced at Miles, who ultimately answered the question. "Possibly hundreds of thousands."

"An army!" Oliver paled, glancing to the President.

"An army of people who had no desire or wish to be turned into what they became," President Jones replied sharply.

"You saw what just a few thousand did in one night here. If those things get loose, they could destroy the world," he countered, and Pete found he didn't totally disagree with the fellow. But he could see the hesitation in Harriet Jones' expression and knew the feeling.

"Madame President," he called, softly. "My wife, Jackie, you knew her. She was one of those creatures in that station. She didn't make it."

The pain of it cut sharply, twisting in his chest, but he continued. "I don't regret the decision we made to use those codes. We gave them back their soul and their ability to feel, if just for a moment. And we had to do something to stop all this. But...yeah, it's not an easy choice to make, I won't lie. But between saving the human race or hoping we can contain them and treat them humanely, I don't know with their current programming if that's possible."

It wasn't a good answer, a nice, clean one, but this wasn't a perfect situation either.

"I'll have to discuss this with the other world leaders. Bring this up before the UN and decide what next steps can be taken, if any." She nodded firmly, glancing around her room. "I need to see how bad off everyone else has been hit and what assistance, if any, we can give. We need to warn them to seal off those factories and not let anyone in or out."

"And what about Tyler's code?" Oliver insisted.

Jones turned to the monitor, staring hard at Pete. "Can Torchwood develop a way of sharing this with anyone who needs it?"

"We can do one better than that. I'll work on getting teams together to help neutralize any threats that arise. Torchwood works independently of the government. Anyone who needs it, we can offer our assistance."

"You'd authorize that?"

Pete shrugged, realizing what an awesome undertaking it was. "Torchwood is the ones who started this mess. Might as well be the ones to clean it up, right?"

The President nodded. "Good man, Tyler. Coordinate with my office when you all have settled on a plan, would you?"

"I will," he replied. "And Madam President, about the military lines?"

"Oh yes," she glanced to someone just off camera. "Start opening up the various exit points. See to an orderly transition of everyone where they need to get to?"

Whoever she was speaking to must have complied. She turned back to the camera. "I'll need a report about this, Tyler. I mean everything. I don't care what sort of privilege Torchwood has had. I swear if I don't get every iota of information I need…"

"You'll get it," Pete murmured. "You can trust me on that."

"I hope so." She didn't look quite convinced. "Very well. We have a lot of work to do. We'll be in touch."

And with that, the communication with Buckingham Palace shut off.

Pete held his breath for long moments, staring at the screen. He couldn't believe what he had just done. He had just...taken over Torchwood. Just like that. And no one questioned it? Him, an estate brat, born and raised.

"I'll get on that intel for the President, sir," Miles murmured somewhere to the side of him. "And I'll see what sort of services Torchwood can offer her government in this crises."

"Thanks," Pete replied, somewhat numb. "And see about getting everyone downstairs busy. If they are Torchwood, gather them together and explain the situation. If not, make them comfortable until we can get them home in an orderly fashion. And send Yvonne's assistant up here. I want to speak to her personally."

"Right," Miles replied, moving to follow his orders with his every pervasive efficiency. To the other side, Mickey and Jake watched him go, then looked at Pete, as if hoping he could tell them what to do with themselves now.

"Anything we need to be on," Jake asked, unsure of himself despite the bravado.

"Yeah." Pete shook himself and considering the pair. Jake he knew was a keen tactical mind for all that he was little more that a street thug. Mickey was a mystery to him, though he said he was good with cars and it was clear he was good with computers. He knew Mickey had a much wider experience with sort of thing than Jake did, and the idea of aliens and all the other manner of madness that went with Torchwood wouldn't bother him in the least. They'd be valuable assets in the long run. Now, what to do with them?

"Lumic's factories, the President can't act against them, but I have a feeling once she speaks to everyone else, they will want something to be done about them. I just offered Torchwood up as the crack team to shut them down. You two managed to take down one, between the pair of you and our field operatives, think you can hash out what we can do about the rest?"

Jake looked thoughtful. Mickey looked vaguely sick. Both nodded.

"Good! And while you're at it, you might as well get trained up on the other stuff as well, the real work of Torchwood. The aliens that come here, some peacefully, some not, but we help regulate out contact. Some of those we are aligned with might have an idea of what we may or may not be able to do about the Cybermen, maybe even a way of humanely saving them. We won't know until we ask."

Predictably, only Jake looked gobsmacked when he said that. "Aliens?"

Mickey only laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Wait till you meet the Slytheen. All I have to say is keep plenty of pickle juice handy."

Pete didn't know what that was a reference to and was too afraid to ask. "Right, with that settled, boys, welcome to Torchwood."

He certainly hoped he knew what he was doing.


	10. Chapter 10

_Two Years Later_

"And here we have Vitex founder and our host for this evening, the most trusted man in Great Britain, Peter Tyler!"

The crowd on the floor cheered and applauded as he came up to the mic, the bright light from above nearly blinding him, turning the many faces in the crowd into shadowy blurs. Pete smiled and waved all the same, turning on the charm and the megawatt smile. "Hello, out there! Thank you all for coming!"

Flashbulbs flickered in the darkness beyond him and he could hear the hush of voices as they slowly quieted, polite expectation filling the room.

"Thank you for coming to this event, the first ever Jackie Tyler Foundation Ball. I hope that you've been enjoying yourselves!"

An appreciative shout came from the floor and Pete laughed.

"Or at least enjoyed the food and booze, all for a good cause, of course." More cheers filled the air. Pete smiled benevolently for long moments, waiting for it all to subside.

"This is the first such event we've had on what would have been my wife Jackie's, 42nd birthday. Of course, by her reckoning, this is only her 41st. Can't be any older than Cuba, after all." He nodded somewhere in the crowd where the very actor stood when last he saw. "But no, she'd have loved this event. The band, the music, the party, it was Jackie's sort of event. She loved these things and I'm only sad that she isn't here to enjoy it. But that's what this is for, to remember Jackie, and the thousands like her, who died two-years-ago today. To remember their legacy, and never forget the horrible events that lead to that night and to raise aid for those families left behind, and leave behind something good out of all of the chaos. So thank you for your part tonight. So, as Jackie would have insisted, drink up, enjoy yourselves, and dance like idiots, because it's a party!"

More cheers ensued, as the music, led by some band that Pete had never heard of, but was told was popular these days, cued up and crashed into a song that caused a frenzy on the floor. Squeals and laughter sounded and Pete smiled, only slightly embarrassing himself as he shook his hips in camaraderie with the dancers, before as gracefully as he possibly could making his exit backstage. His assistant, Amanda, once the very same secretary to Yvonne Hartman, stood waiting for him, a tablet phone held out. "It's Torchwood, sir."

"Right." All joviality fled as he held the phone up to his ear. "Miles, this is my night off. I'm at the ball."

"I know, sir. And how are all your drunken revelers?"

"Sodding pissed, but they are spending money and I will be in the tabs as the benevolent Vitex CEO, raising money for a good cause."

"How do you like your double life, Clark Kent?"

"I like it better when my assistant director isn't a cocky arse. What is it, Miles?"

"Mickey and Jake have found something in Orleans."

Pete paused in his detour through the workings of the stage he was behind, his assistant nearly slamming into him as he did. "What?"

"You might want to get to Torchwood Tower."

"On my way," he replied, shoving the phone into his coat pocket. "Amanda, I need to head to Canary Wharf. Keep an eye on things here."

Without any further word, he spun towards the exit, beckoning his driver, who started up the Lexus towncar as Pete climbed inside. "Torchwood."

The drive through the city gave Pete the chance to pull out his tablet phone and brood over whatever was important enough for Miles to call him in. Two years ago Pete had taken over at Torchwood, after the reconstituted Board of Trustees voted him in unanimously. Not that there was much opposition to it, for most of the top brass at Torchwood, include Yvonne Hartman, all of her assistant directors, and most of the original board had all perished. Pete had been the only one, thanks to Miles assistance, who had kept a cool enough head at the time to pull the operation together and the only one who had known the truth about Lumic. It had been his efforts that had helped the government bring chaos to the disorder in those first, frantic days. And it was part of what saved his ass from further scrutiny when the dust settled.

There had been those who had noted rather quickly that Pete Tyler had stood at the right hand of John Lumic, running his companies, charming and ebullient for his reclusive employer, who behind everyone's back was creating monstrosities. Harriett Jones had been most helpful here, whipping out a government investigation, which had quickly cleared Pete of any wrongdoing in the case. Of course, it had come with the with the tacit agreement that whatever Torchwood's private mandate may be, should hell even be even scorching the handbasket, she would be told. Pete had counted his blessings and agreed, taking back Vitex from the shattered remains of Cybus Industries. To the world at large he was still the trustworthy, smiling Pete Tyler, handing them a strawberry-kiwi vitamin water, who ran a company worth millions, diversified into all sorts of healthy snack foods. When he wasn't there, he was seen on the tabloid scene, running the charity in his dearly departed wife's name, chatting up the talk shows, and coyly evading rumors of being shacked up with one or the other of the society matrons who seemed to think the widowed Pete was the prime catch to add to their fortunes. Gossip pages buzzed, and Pete laughed and joked, never owning up to anything.

Behind all that, of course, was the truth, the side the public never knew, and that was that Pete Tyler was no more in charge of Vitex than he was liable to marry one of those hoydens the tabs kept hooking him up with. Oh, he was still it's President and CEO and oversaw the major changes, but the company had been running itself well for years while in the Cybus conglomerate and Pete had very little to do with it. It merely provided him with the capital to fund what he really was up to, Torchwood. That had become his new passion. Lumic's plan had nearly wiped out the institute, but it hadn't destroyed it. And Pete, ever the visionary, took it upon himself to refashion it, still within the mandate of course, but with a new purpose. No longer would Torchwood simply attempt to use and contain alien life without thought to the consequence, but it would now work with those who came to Earth and take the technology to make it a better place, to avoid the wrongs that were done before, to stop anyone like John Lumic from rising again - to let no one else , like Jackie, die because they had been careless and sloppy.

Which of course led to the problem of the Cybermen. In the days after the initial attacks, the Cybermen threat had been contained. Factories were discovered the world over, in Mumbai, Mexico City, New Jersey, anywhere where there was a large population center and plenty of homeless, destitute people that traveled the streets, unnoticed and unwanted. Their brains were placed in these metal bodies, stored away for the day that Lumic would rise to power. But that plan had failed, and now they all remained, still and silent in their factories, waiting for orders that would never come. 

The first impulse by many was to destroy these sites before the Cybermen could figure out what to do with themselves and they posed a new threat. But this impulse was soon checked by the outcry of the families whose loved ones were trapped in those bodies. The human factor came into play all too quickly. Soon, world governments debated on the human rights of Cybermen, who still had their brains, even if they weren't in their original bodies. What had been a fight for survival turned quickly into a moral and political argument, one Pete had shied away from. Torchwood was not part of a political entity, it stood outside of politics by its mandate. It had one concern and one concern alone, protecting the Earth from alien threat. That didn't sway many governments, who still saw the Cybermen as their citizens, and didn't particularly care what Torchwood's mission was. And so Pete and Torchwood found themselves at a stalemate where the Cybermen were concerned. They couldn't simply destroy them, and yet, they couldn't bloody well just leave them there unattended.

This is where Mickey and Jake had come in. He'd brought the pair into Torchwood, Jake as the only survivor of the former Preachers and Mickey because of his computer expertise, which wasn't bad, considering that he was from a different universe. He'd placed them under the care of Miles, his new Assistant Director for Field Operations, and sent them off, covertly, to observe each of the sites. They discreetly set up their advanced surveillance technology and slip back out again without earning the ire of the independent governments who still felt they had some say over their former citizens. Their latest trip had been to Orleans, one of the largest of the sites, where hints of recent activity had cropped up. The fact that they had found something there did not bode well for Pete's evening.

The car pulled into the parking garage of Torchwood Tower, empty save for Miles standing waiting at the building entrance. It was again unseasonably warm for February. It had been for the last two years. Miles stood in his comfortable shirtsleeves, just as put together as always, but looking less than his smirking, sardonic self.

"Someone step on your grave," Pete queried.

"I'll wish they had when you get the news Frick and Frack bring," he replied, falling into step by Pete as they made their way inside, to the bevvy of lifts in the glass enclosed building.

"You said this was supposed to be a routine check, just to see what the activity was."

"And it was. Neither of them compromised their mission, but you aren't going to like what they found."

"I'm not liking what they found already, and I don't know what it is." One of the lifts opened automatically, waiting for his voice command. "Director's floor."

Without so much as a jerk, the lift rose, smoothly gliding up the many levels of Torchwood, with a speed Pete didn't even want to think about. "It was just radio signals. How harmless could they be?"

"That's why I called Rajesh Singh in from research to look into it."

"Now a scientist is involved, too?" Pete glowered as the doors slid open to his floor. "What does he do?"

"Astrophysics," Miles replied.

"Space?" Pete paused, glaring at his compatriot, who simply grabbed his arm and drug him along.

"You'll understand better when we get in there." There was a hint of urgency in Miles' ever polite tone. If Pete hadn't been worried up to this point, it nearly turned into full on panic now.

"Why on tonight of all nights," he muttered, as Miles held open his office door.

"Jackie's way of bedeviling the universe from beyond the grave, I imagine," Miles replied with clipped sarcasm.

"See, there, you had to go and poke fun at her. Woman has been gone for years."

"Couldn't help myself, sir, I suppose it's my way of missing her," Miles replied, following behind. Already Mickey and Jake were waiting, lounging in the dark, leather chairs on the other side of Pete's functional, wooden desk, in the jeans and leather jackets that seemed to be their perpetual uniform even now, years after the Preachers went defunct. With them was a nervous looking man in a gray suit, sitting in the corner of the space as if he wasn't so certain he should even be there.

"Well, I send the pair of you to France to check up on some data, see the sights, pick me up some nice Bordeaux, and you come back to tell me the world is ending?"

"I wouldn't say ending," Jake replied, shrugging lazily in his leather coat.

"I just said things were bad," Mickey replied defensively, glaring at Jake as if he'd somehow messed the message up.

"I said it was going to end! The way Miles is acting you'd think it was, and I want to know what the hell is going on? I go to a party, a charity event for my deceased wife, and next thing I know you two show up with bad news and an astrophysicist." Pete turned to look at the man, who seemed surprised that Pete had noticed him. "Dr. Singh?"

"Yes!" He rose politely, taking Pete's outstretched hand. "I am sorry we interrupted your party."

"Thanks for being here. No, that's fine." He turned to the other two and Miles, who stood behind them. "What's been going on?"

Jake looked to Mickey, having some sort of silent warfare between the pair of them over who would speak first.

"How about we start at the beginning," Pete sighed, throwing himself into his chair. "Mickey, you were the one who told us that there were some sort of signal readings from the Orleans plant?"

"Yeah," Mickey nodded, clearing his throat and straightening in his chair. "Yeah, right, we've been monitoring the activity in all the plants. Most of them are dead quiet, lifeless. All the readings we get are low level mechanical ones you get, nothing special. But a week ago, we started to see a spike of energy in the Orleans plant. Course, that tipped us off something was up, so we checked out the other readings. More activity, more chatter, and some signal was being emitted."

"Trying to contact the other Cybermen?"

"No," Mickey glanced at Miles.

"The signal was being sent out, away from Earth," Miles stated.

"So trying to contact one of our allied races?"

"Not exactly," Miles in his turn looked to Dr. Singh. The scientist cut in then, looking relieved that at least he finally had something to do.

"Assistant Director Conner brought me in at this point. I had my team trace the signal, it's subatomic, travels across space. But the problem was while it was traveling away from Earth, it was...disappearing."

"Disappearing?" Pete turned fully to Singh, trying to wrap his head around this. He was no slouch at physics himself, but that made no sense. "The waves can't just disappear, not unless they are absorbed by something."

"We think they are," Singh replied, clearly troubled.

"How?"

"The signal isn't just being scattered into space. It's being directed and concentrated on one spot."

"And that spot isn't even in Orleans," Miles cut in. "The signal is being projected to a specific area above Earth."

"Which one?"

"This one."

Pete stared at the other man, not comprehending for a moment. He turned then to Sing, and then to Mickey and Jake, as if hoping they made more sense. "Torchwood?"

"I tracked the signal myself," Mickey replied. "It's how I found it, I thought they might be trying to hack our system."

"Turns out they aren't," Jake chimed in. "They are simply using Torchwood as a giant beacon."

"For what?"

"This is where it gets weird," Jake muttered, glancing sideways darkly at Mickey, who only nodded in agreement. "Our last readings on the plant indicate that some of the Cybermen are missing."

The bottom fell out of Pete's stomach, allowing anxiety to spin up, out of control inside of him, his chest tightening in response. This couldn't be happening. Not again. "Where are they?"

"Never left the facility. We checked. Place is locked up, the French nationals didn't see anyone, and not a single camera picked up anyone leaving."

"It's like they just...vanished," Mickey echoed. Jake nodded in worried agreement.

"Vanished," Pete blustered, his voice picking up in sound and fury. "Vanished? Things don't just vanish. Cybermen are metal objects, matter doesn't just disappear and neither do radio waves."

And then it occurred to him what they were saying. He stopped, pieces clicking, as he spun on Singh. "You said the signal vanished?'

"Yes," Singh confirmed.

"The signal vanished, the Cybermen vanished." Pete turned to Miles. "Are they using the signal to call anyone?"

"No, sir. They are using the signal to vanish with."

Perhaps, two years ago, before all of this, Pete would have laughed at the idea, called it science fiction mumbo jumbo. Even in the wake of the type of technological advances Torchwood had, with its purloined alien advancements, no one could do things like teleport. Unless Lumic had one last secret he had taken with him to the grave.

"So the Cybermen are vanishing. Where?" This last question was directed at Singh.

"We thought that they were going somewhere else in the galaxy. We looked for a receiving signal, some place where they may have come out on. But unfortunately, we didn't find one. We found something else instead."

The scientist reached into the bag beside his chair, pulling out a tablet, which he turned on and started with a few flicks of his fingers on the glass. He handed it to Pete, data and charts scattering the screen. But Pete had been quite clever in science when he was a lad, and while much of it was still Greek to him, the gist of it came through quite clear.

"You found a rip in reality?"

"More like a hole," Singh corrected. "It's there, just above us, perhaps even were we are. It's hard to tell with space and time."

"And that's where their signal is concentrated on?"

"The Cybermen are trying to communicate with something on the other side of that hole," Singh elaborated. "What's more, they are able to teleport themselves through it. We have the technology here at Torchwood for such things, have had for decades, but have never found a practical use for it."

"For teleportation? I can't believe we couldn't make money off that," Pete snorted. Then it occurred to him. "We gave it to Lumic. That's why we didn't capitalize off it."

"And he put it in his Cybermen," Miles called out, rounding the chairs to stand by Pete's desk. "They are teleporting themselves out of this dimension."

They were...leaving?

"Okay," Pete set the tablet down on his desk. "So they are leaving Earth, leaving our universe all together. What's the problem with that?"

"Several," Singh interjected, not sounding anything as pleased as Pete did. "What they are doing is causing interference on several levels. A hole in space and time sucks a great deal of energy. It's proximity that close to Earth's surface is causing havoc with our ozone layer. The unseasonable temperatures of late? That's no accident."

"Not to mention that it's causing all sorts of other geological hell," Miles added. "We've had an uptick in earthquakes this last year, volcanic eruptions."

Pete had noticed of course, but living in England with neither faults nor volcanoes, had not paid that particularly close attention to it. "So it's messing with the tectonic activity?"

"The electro-magnetic pull of the hole is tugging at the Earth, much like the moon does," Singh offered by way of explanation. "Every time they open it, it tugs on our planet a little more. So far they've been able to get away with it because it's only been recently that they started, and only in small bursts."

Jake brought himself back into the discussion. "Mickey started noticing the signal two months ago, and when we began our surveillance just three weeks ago, we noticed it only five times. Each time, another hundred Cybermen went missing."

"The factory holds easily ten-thousand," Mickey added. "So it's not many, in the grand scheme, but that's five hundred gone, and we don't know how many others have gone missing before that. And we don't know if they ever plan on sending up more at a time either."

"And more at a time would need more energy," Singh picked up the thread. "More time to transport them, more energy to do it. And right now, it's only the Orleans factory doing it, as it's the closest surviving one to Torchwood."

"Yeah, but the other facilities can all network to each other," Mickey warned. "And if they can do that, who's to say they can't all teleport through that hole?"

"And if that happens, our world will rip itself apart," Singh stated emphatically, eyes on Pete. "Even if we want to let it be someone else's problem, sir, if they ever decide to leave en masse, we wouldn't be able to stop them, and we'd all be killed."

Bloody hell...

Pete exhaled, glaring at the tablet on the desk. This had sounded like the perfect solution for half a moment there, the answer to all their troubles. Of course, Lumic couldn't just make it easy. "Do we know how the technology that Lumic is using works?"

"In theory," Singh shrugged. "But we don't know what Lumic did to change it. However it originally worked may not be how it works now."

"And do we know where they are going to?"

"No," Singh shook his head, leaning back into his seat with a weary sigh. "That's the problem, it could be anywhere. Space and time, it's not a straight line. I'm no quantum physicist, but I do know that in terms of theoretical understanding. It has to do with string theory, the idea that the most basic idea of the universe isn't just an atom, but a string vibrating. The vibration of this string, of course, fits into basic dimensions, more than just what we see with the naked eye. Because we can't perceive these other planes, the theory is that along these dimensions are other planes, perhaps an infinite set, where universes, just like ours, exist, but with differences. Perhaps in that plane, I wore a blue suit today instead of gray. You didn't go to the ball, and in fact, your wife may not have died."

Pete resisted the urge to look at Mickey, even though he could feel the young man's gaze on him. "Yeah, I get it, alternate universes."

"More than that, they could be wildly different, depending on the point in which they changed. And that's the problem. If you think of reality as an infinite plane with infinite universes, we have no idea which one the Cybermen are attempting to get to, or if we can even follow them there on our own. If we try to find it, we may end up somewhere else, thus not only not solving the problem, but potentially creating a new one by creating a hole into a separate and different universe."

"But what about if we didn't attempt to punch a new hole." Mickey spoke up, surprising them all as they turned to look at him. "What if we just do what they are doing, right? They are using a sub-atomic radio signal and using that to teleport, right? Why can't we do that?"

"Would it destabilize the existing situation further," Pete asked Singh, who looked thoughtful at Mickey's suggestion.

"Maybe not. Perhaps, if we were sending a hundred people, but not if we are justing sending a small team in."

"And do we have anything here at Torchwood that would teleport us from here through there?"

"We have the same technology Lumic had access to. I don't know what he did with it, but I am sure if we get the engineering team in Research and Development on board, they can perhaps reverse engineer something that would work."

"And how long will it take?"

Here, the scientist looked as if he was at a loss. "I don't know. Could be immediate, if we find something that works now. Otherwise, it could be weeks, maybe even a year."

"I don't think we have that long," Miles warned, eyes narrowing behind his dark-frames. "This is just Orleans now, but Mickey is right. If they've figured out a way to escape, and they even sense what we are up to, or hell, even if they don't, they could throw this all into overdrive."

"Not to mention whatever is on the other side has to deal with the Cybermen," Mickey pointed out quietly. Pete didn't need to ask him to know he was thinking of his home.

"Dr. Singh, get on this and see what you can do to help boost research on a way of teleporting into that universe. Miles, I want your teams keeping an eye on all those Cybermen sites, tell me when they start going online. And ask around our alien allies, see if any of them have technology that might help us in this situation. Mickey and Jake, you two are my eyes and ears in the field. Keep us informed on anything that's different. But keep this all under your hats, I don't need this getting out and scaring the hell out of everyone."

There were murmured agreements as Pete curtly dismissed them all with a nod. Singh politely gathered his tablet, filing it away as Jake and Miles both began to wander out. Only Mickey remained, silently sitting in front of Pete, waiting for him to acknowledge him there.

"You think that they are going home, don't you?" Pete knew he did, but felt he had to state the obvious anyway.

"The Doctor said there was a weird crack that we fell through that day. Wasn't supposed to be there. What if it was there because Lumic was messing about with these things?"

"We don't know if that's the case."

"But it might be," Mickey insisted. "And if it is, these things are going home...to my home, my real one, my Britain."

"We aren't going to let them go there and tear it to hell, Mickey."

"Yeah, but we don't know if they are over there or not now." Mickey scrubbed roughly at his face. In the two years he had been in this world with Pete, he'd changed a great deal. No longer the gormless "tin dog" as he called himself, he'd turned himself into a valuable part of the Torchwood team. It turned out he, like Pete, had a knack for tinkering and creating, and was a wiz with a computer, not to mention a car engine. Even he and Jake had gotten over their differences and the painful circumstance of Mickey looking just like Ricky Smith and had come to be good mates. He no longer seemed to pine away for a childhood sweetheart that had left him behind to see the universe with a mad alien in a police box. He was a man in his own right, smart, capable, and right now, determined to save his home.

In light of this, Pete tried to tread carefully. "Your Doctor is over there. And he knows about the Cybermen. He can handle himself. If it is your universe they are going to, he can at least hold off the lot that are there long enough till we get over there, right?"

"Yeah, but he's not there all the time. What if he's off poncing on Mars or Tatooine or something, and he's got Rose with him. Whose back on Earth, looking after it? And Jackie, she's there by herself. What will happen to her?"

Pete knew he was invoking his dead wife's doppelganger on purpose, trying to illicit Pete's sympathy. "Don't play that game with me, Mickey. I know she's Jackie Tyler, but she's not my Jackie Tyler, and you can't guilt me into doing something stupid just because she is a different version of her."

"Doesn't change the fact that her life is any less in danger."

"And what do you want me to do about it now?" He threw his hands up in frustration, glaring at the young man who sat, petulant and moody across from him. "We won't know anything until we get a device that lets us do what the Cybermen are doing. Until then, we are just spinning over nothing."

"Right," Mickey spat, mutinous as he slouched in the seat. "If you are sending people over, I want to go. I've had experience on alien worlds, other dimensions. More experience than anyone in Torchwood has had. So, if you figure out how to get there, I want to be the first man in."

His reasoning wasn't totally ridiculous. And Pete had a feeling that if he didn't agree, the boy would just sit in his office and whinge about it till Pete gave in. "Fine, you get first dibs. Take Jake with you. But you still have to wait till we get a device that can send you through that hole and not blow your head off."

"And if the Cybermen are over there? What do we do then? We can't just send platoons of Torchwood field ops over, destroying them."

"Don't borrow trouble, Mickey, till we know what we are dealing with," Pete warned quietly. Mickey got the message. He nodded shortly, rose, and went the same way as the others. Pete watched him leave for a long moment, before turning to stare out of the glass of his window to the darkened night and the glittering spread of London below. It shimmered with the passing of streetcars, while on the river, ships trudged along, all oblivious to the fact that somewhere overhead, there worst enemy was even now attempting to flee from this plane of reality at the expense of their home. Honestly, most wouldn't likely care even if they did know.

Two years since that fateful day, and the world moved on, as if Cybermen hadn't disrupted their entire way of living. Even those at the ball, paying for the honor to go to a charity event, laughed and danced and drank as if thousands hadn't died in London alone. And yes, while there were tangible, visible reminders of that night, the shift from earpods to tablet phones for example, the truth was everyone was simply just heartily glad that the nightmare was behind them. Let it be someone else's problem to pick up the pieces.

That had become, if anything, Torchwood's new mandate. Picking up the pieces of the mess Lumic left behind. It would be so convenient to simply let the Cybermen go, to forget the nightmare that had entered their lives, move on to other things. But he thought of Jackie that night, laughing, chatting with the President, in her element. And then he thought of her counterpart, in Mickey's world, having never left the estate. What would that Jackie be doing now, he wondered? Making tea? Watching her rubbish telly? Wandering about with the phone to her ear, chatting for hours, like she used to do when he was mucking about with his models and mock-ups? Would she be alone when the Cybermen arrived, clueless as to what was going on?

"Bloody hell," Pete swore, scrubbing his face and spinning to his desk. He pulled at the bottom most drawer, the sturdy oak creaking as he yanked it open with far more force than he intended. He snagged the bottle of fine, twenty-year-old Lagavulin and a crystal tumbler, plunking the glass firmly on the top of his desk as he poured several fingers full of amber liquid into it.

It was clearly that sort of night.

He lifted the glass to his lips, sipping at the peaty, smoky Scotch, swirling it around as the musky aroma filtered through to his brain and he swallowed. Sighing, he leaned back into his chair and glanced back out to the city below again, lifting his glass silently as he did.

"Happy birthday, Jacks," he murmured, staring at his reflection in the window. "Whoever and wherever you are."


	11. Chapter 11

"Six months in development, you think it would be...I don't know, sexier?"

Pete snorted, shooting Miles a reproachful look as he handled the device that Doctor Singh was so very proud of. In fact, he and his team of developers were now standing in their neat and tiled lab, looking somewhat wounded at Miles' assessment of their groundbreaking research.

"We aren't marketing it, Miles, so I don't think sexy is what we are going for with it." Pete handled the device. It didn't look like much, measuring about the size of his hand, but if what they said was true, it was powerful enough to do exactly what they needed.

"It's not as simple as a teleport device, but it's based off the same technology the Cybermen are using," Singh explained, direct and sincere as he pointed to the objects face. "Essentially the principle is the same as a teleporter. It moves matter particles from one point in space to another in three dimensional space. The difference with this, however, is that we aren't simply moving through space, we are also moving through time and the other dimensions that we don't see."

"So when the Cybermen open that hole in between dimensions, this thing will let us pop right on in and say hello?" Miles stared doubtfully at the piece of plastic and electronics. Pete couldn't blame him. It all sounded like science fiction to him too. But then again, so had aliens, time travel, and humans in cyber bodies at one point in time.

"That's the idea," Singh concurred, taking the device back from Pete carefully. "We've run tests in simulation only. We've never run it live. But so far, it looks good."

"So on a computer we've managed to get a human being through a trans-dimensional hole, but in all possibility, I could use this on one of my team and have them end up eaten by a dinosaur," Pete muttered, knowing that it wasn't much use. What sort of tests could they run on this sort of thing?

Singh didn't particularly seem offended by Pete's assertion, but instead held up another device, an earpiece, similar to the old earpods but smaller and singular. "That's why I developed this. It's sort of an earpod with a subatomic signal. It's keyed into our system, only we can hear it, and it allows anyone who makes one of these jumps to still call back home should anything be happening on the other end. Takes massive amounts of energy, though, the battery only lasts for twenty minutes, but it's enough to let us know if there's trouble."

"And how about the devices," Pete wondered. "How are they powered?"

"A lithium alloy we've developed with some of our alien allies, one that is commonly used across the universe to help power devices on long voyage, deep space trips, sort of the inter-galactic mobile battery. They are self charging, pulling electrical current from the environment, but, just like with the earpods, it takes a lot of energy to get through that dimensional hole. One short burst and it will need at least half-an-hour for a recharge."

"So, if there is a dinosaur on the other side, they at least only have to avoid it for half-an-hour, which is comforting," Miles sniffed, glancing at Pete. "What do you think?"

Pete stared at both of the devices. What he thought was that this was madness and he'd be an idiot to attempt this, sending people into danger without knowing what was on the other side. On the other hand, what other option did he have? "We might as well give it a shot, eh? Give Mickey a call."

Miles didn't look nearly as convinced as Pete did. "You sure about this?"

"What? You got another sacrificial lamb you want to toss out here and feel less guilty about possibly killing?" Pete didn't like this one bit better than Miles, but he saw no other option. "Besides, I promised him if he could go. He's had more experience with other worlds than anyone has, even you. If it is indeed his home, he knows it far better than we do."

"I hope you know what you're doing," the other man murmured, walking away to put in the call.

"I do, too," Pete sighed. He looked up at Singh. "Think we can have Mickey give it a test run?"

"I don't see why not." Singh even looked excited by the prospect, as did the team. Of course, they would want to see if it even worked. Pete prayed fervently that it did. He didn't want to have to explain to Rita Ann Smith where her grandson had disappeared to, even if in all technicality he wasn't her grandson.

"If this doesn't work, Doctor Singh, what's the worst that could happen?"

Pete couldn't help but notice the furtive looks between the engineers that stood behind him.

"Worst? He could end up stuck somewhere with a broken device, unable to get back."

"It won't explode? He won't be stuck between dimensions?"

"No…well, in theory."

"Fantastic," Pete muttered, glancing up as Miles returned. "He coming down?'

"He'll be right here." Miles looked as if he had been sucking on a lemon. "Look, Pete, I know we promised him this, but he's a good agent, if something happens…"

"I'll speak to Rita Ann personally," Pete replied, not meeting Mile's eye.

"That's nice and while you don't bother explaining to her that he's not really her grandson after all and tell her that he died in a freak accident, here's some money for your losses, you are sending a kid out there with a device that's never seen real testing. You all right doing that?"

"I have you send other people's kids and grandkids out to deal with aliens everyday, Miles. What's so different with this?"

"Aliens are a known threat. This, we don't know what's on the other side."

"Mickey's done this before." Pete tried to sound more confident than he felt.

"Yeah, and from all accounts he was with someone who knew what he was doing."

That was true. Pete knew very little about the mysterious Doctor, but he knew one thing, Mickey was no where near the capability of the mad alien in his blue box.

The doors to the lab burst open, and Mickey rushed in, a blur of brown and blue jeans. He skidded to a halt, his trainers squeaking on the tile floor as he grinned at Pete. "You finally got it working?"

"Singh's got the first device ready to go." Pete pointed to the innocuous looking bit of plastic. Mickey snatched it up eagerly, carelessly turning it over as he studied it.

"What's it do? How's it supposed to work?"

"First," Singh sighed, plucking it out of Mickey's hands, frowning at him as if he was a careless three-year-old playing with a grenade. "Be careful with it. You set it off, and you'll disappear without us being able to track it."

Mickey shrugged, shoving his eager hands into his jean pockets, looking somewhat chastened. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Right. Now, the way the device works is like this." Singh pressed a button on the side and turned to his tablet, fingers flying as he pulled up screens. "The Cybermen opened the hole above Torchwood this morning. It's still open. We've zeroed in on the signal and have used that to plot the coordinates into our algorithm. That is how the jumper will be able to know where you are going and where to come back too."

"Jumper? That what you are calling it," Mickey wondered aloud.

"Well, we were going to call it the transdimensional matter teleportation device, but jumper sounded more catchy," Singh murmured as he worked, brow furrowing in concentration. "Now, I've keyed it in. This will take you wherever the Cybermen are going."

"Now do I make it work?"

The scientist plucked the nylon lanyard at the end and slung it around Mickey's neck. "Wear it at all times, that way you don't lose it." He grabbed the earpiece off the table beside him and handed it Mickey. "Wear that too. It's a telecommunication device, let's you call back home. It only lasts for twenty minutes, so make it brief. The jumper has enough energy for one burst through the transdimensional wall, after that, you'll need to give it a good half-hour to charge. There's a light bar on the side, it will show you when it's ready to jump. Don't attempt to jump unless it's fully charged, you'll simply waste energy and have to wait longer."

Mickey listened attentively, picking up the device from his chest and studying it. "And it safe to use, right? I won't get cancer or something from it?"

Pete nearly snorted. Cancer was the least of his worries with this stunt.

"It's safe." Singh glance at Pete and Miles, the latter who still glowered uncertainly. "Do we want to give it a try?"

"What, now?" Mickey blinked in surprise. "I mean, can it go?"

"If you are ready," Singh smiled.

Mickey looked from Miles to Pete. "Do I have clearance to go?"

Miles only looked at Pete for confirmation. Pete took a deep breath and held it. "Right, bloody hell, let's get it over with."

Mickey grinned as he held up the device. "So I just push this button."

"That's it," Singh confirmed.

Mickey nodded. He planted his feet, squared his broad shoulders, and gave Pete a smart salute. "I'll call in as soon as I land, boss. Let you know what's on the other side."

"Let me know you're bloody alive too," Pete growled.

"Right," Mickey finger hovered over the button. He closed his eyes, pressed his lips together and sharply pressed the flats of his fingers on the button.

At first nothing seemed to happen. Then, somewhere in a room behind Pete, he could hear a whine, like an engine revving. And then, in the blink of an eye, Mickey Smith disappeared. Beside him, Miles exhaled, cursing, as the engineering team whooped in amazement. Only Singh remained unflappable, his eyes glued to the tablet screen. Pete moved to stand beside him, watching the data as came up, trying to make sense of it. "Is he there?"

"He's there," Singh replied. A beeping sound emanated from the tablet, and Singh clicked a program. "That's him calling in."

"Thank God," Pete breathed, as static sound filled the speakers nearby and floated into the engineering lab.

"Mickey, is that you?"

"Yeah," Mickey replied, his voice overloud, as if he was attempting to speak over something. "Yeah, I'm here, I'm safe...and I think I'm home."

Again the engineers clapped, but Singh waved them off as Pete stepped in. "Mick, it's Pete. You sure you're home and not somewhere else?"

"Yeah," Mickey replied. "Pretty sure, at least. Looking at a big tourist poster of the Queen, so it must be the right place."

"You're not in any danger?" Pete pressed, guilt for even letting him do this gnawing at his insides coldly.

"Only from this homeless bloke who's trying to hit me up for a fiver," Mickey repled. "It's got to be home. It's got to be!"

The joy in Mickey's voice would have made Pete happy for him if the situation wasn't so dire. "Any sign of the Cybermen?"

"No, not yet. Everything looks so...normal. Like it did when I left."

"What's the date," Miles called out. He looked relieved, now, but also curious.

"Give us a 'mo, I'll find a paper." There was a brief bit of silence. In the background, Pete could hear car sounds. "Weird, it's only a few months after we left."

"Time could move differently between the worlds," Singh murmured by way of explanation.

"You see anything in the paper, anything strange about what's been going on." Miles asked, curious. It hadn't even occurred to Pete look there.

"Yeah. Something about ghosts."

Ghosts? Miles shrugged, even Singh looked confused. Pete decided when in doubt, roll with what they had. "You got any money on you?"

"Not any they'd accept here. Why?"

"Can you get some?"

"Yeah. Got a mate who owes me. I bet I can find him. Tell him I've been traveling, he'd believe it. What for?"

"Buy all the papers you can, whatever you can hold. When the jumper's charged, come back."

"Might take me longer than half-an-hour. Got to track him down."

"Just get here when you can. Keep your eyes sharp. We'll let you go, save the battery. Let us know before you jump so we can make sure the hole is open."

"Right," Mickey replied. "See you in a bit then, boss."

With a click, his voice was gone.

The engineers murmured between themselves. Even Singh looked pleased. Miles, on the other hand, looked relieved and amazed. "Did we seriously just speak to someone in another dimension?"

"And you said it wasn't sexy," Pete kidded, relief bringing a smile to his face. He turned to Singh. "Not bad for a bunch of engineers and an astrophysicist jury rigging some alien junk."

"I was half afraid it wouldn't work," he admitted with a small smile. There was still a hint of worry, however, in his dark eyes. "Mickey mentioned ghosts?"

"What? You think it might be something?"

"Maybe," Singh admitted carefully. "Just...something I heard in lecture once. I'd have to call an old friend of mine at Oxford, if you don't mind. Just, a theory of his. I won't tell him what we are up to, but I think I may know what that's all about."

"Does it have to do with the Cybermen?"

"Perhaps," Singh nodded vaguely, leaning a hip against the lab table. "Or it could be that Mickey's world is just mad."

"Either possibility could be true," Pete admitted ruefully. "Sure, call him up. When Mickey returns, send him to my office, would you, Miles?"

"Sure! After I've had a stiff drink," he shot back, cheekily, as Pete turned away.

"You and me both," Pete muttered.


	12. Chapter 12

When Mickey did return, nearly two hours later, it was with armfuls of papers and a cone full of chips.

"There's this chippy near where I lived. Been craving it for years!" He jammed fried potato in his mouth blissfully as Pete spread out the papers across the conference room table.

"What? They fry them in oil made from fatted geese or something?" Miles deftly snagged one from Mickey's outstretched cone, earning a glare of annoyance from the other man.

" _Oi_! You want some, jump yourself! These are all mine." Just to prove the point he crammed several more in his mouth, the ends sticking out as he chewed around the giant mouthful.

"Charming," Miles muttered, popping his purloined prize in his mouth before stopping to stare at Mickey in sheer amazement.

"Told you," Mickey gloated around mashed up potato. "Bet you wish you hadn't stolen some now, 'cause I'd have shared."

"You know I can put you and Jake on graveyard shift from now until Judgement Day if I felt like it."

"Such big talk," Mickey sneered, waggling his prize invitingly.

"You know Judgement Day will come a hell of a lot sooner if you two don't stop playing over there and help me with these." Pete scanned across the front cover of the _Times_ , which was indeed nearly two years behind their own calendar. "Ghosts, then?"

"That's what everyone is saying," Mickey confirmed, chewing happily. "Even on the telly."

"Did your mate know anything about it?"

"Spike? Nah! Doubt he'd notice on a good day and today was a bong day."

It took Pete a long moment and some half-hazy memories of his own youth on the estates to catch on to the reference. "And he wasn't surprised to see you?"

"Oh, he was surprised. Heard I'd taken off and was running from the law. Let him believe I was doing covert ops, all MI-6, which ain't too far from the truth. Close enough."

"And doesn't hurt your reputation in the old place, does it," Miles observed wryly. Mickey only smiled cheekily.

"But no sign of the Cybermen?" Pete pressed, flickering between various tabs and papers, with nary a sign of random robot sightings.

"Nah. I looked. Even got him to let me sit on his computer and scrolled the internet. Nothing."

Pete frowned. None of this made sense. "No Cybermen. But they say they have an influx of ghosts?"

"Yeah! Apparently everyone is seeing them."

"Mass-psychosis?"

"Or an alien prank," Miles offered. "It's been known to happen, even here."

"Oh maybe it's the hole the Cybermen have opened up." It was only after he spoke that Singh knocked on the heavy, wooden door, Jake behind him. "I apologize, Mr. Conner, I borrowed one of your team members."

"You made it back alive," Jake chortled, pushing past the scientist to slap Mickey on the back. "These your magic chips?"

"They'll change your life," Mickey promised as Jake snagged a handful.

"Now that we've established these are the most amazing chips in two universes, Dr. Singh, what's your point?" Pete was fastly starting to lose his patience with all of this.

The scientist entered, a file brief under his arm rather than his tablet for a change. "I went to see my friend who lectures at Oxford. When Mickey mentioned ghosts, I thought of him. He's a theoretical physicists, works with quantum physics and space-matter transference. He had a theory once about the movement of matter between one physical dimension and the other."

As he spoke, he moved to the table, opening the brief and pulling out notes, flipping through them quickly. "The theory is complicated. I has to do with string theory and the idea of multiple dimensions, far too complex to explain here. But in brief, it's this. If the most basic idea of the universe and everything in it are these strings, vibrating, there is space between these strings. These spaces between are holes between everything made by matter, between amino acids, cells, people, planets, universes...even time and dimensions. An empty place, where there is nothing, essentially."

Pete nodded, understanding the basic gist. "So, what about it?"

"Well, my colleague supposed that this space is what allows for movement. So, when something moves from point A to B in physical space, it's moving through these places. Now, knowing what I know about teleportation and extended space travel, there is truth in his theory. These technologies utilize these empty spaces to move matter between two points. What he also postulates, however, is that when traveling from one dimension to another, that one moves through this empty space, this blind spot in reality. But the problem is, that to move through that blind spot, you need a great deal of force. We managed it with the jumper, they have a whole lot of power packed into them. They are essentially punching through the hole the Cybermen created, thus bypassing this nothing space."

"And you think the Cybermen haven't?"

"Not yet, not all of them at least." Singh spread out the papers he had on the table, on top of the various newspapers Mickey had brought. "This is all the notes my friend has collected over the years on ghost sightings in England. Specifically in places like Cardiff, Scotland, and most recently here, around Canary Wharf."

Pete picked up the newest file, a trashy little internet article about kids in some back alley nearby swearing they had seen their long dead gran sitting on top of a rubbish bin. "Ghost stories?"

"Not just any ghosts. I did some checking up on these grandmother in that article. Guess when and where she died?"

A horrible cold, sinking feeling hit Pete square in the chest. "Battersea?"

"All the most recent ones have been people who died there. My colleagues research has all been theoretical. No one in the community would take him seriously with this, but the idea is that there are places in the world where reality is weak for some reason, these tears and holes within the fabric open up, allowing people and things to sometimes fall through by accident. What we may be seeing as supposed ghosts may actually be aspects of those who've fallen through those cracks, trapped in these empty places."

"And Mickey's ghosts," Pete asked, holding out the Times to Singh.

"Like as not they are manifestations of those Cybermen who are trying to get through to the other side, only their physical bodies are trapped in the nothing space."

"I double checked our data," Jake offered quietly, looking solemn after Singh's explanation. "All the sights are ramping up, more and more are going through everyday."

"Chances are, they could be stuck in between worlds," Singh said. "The ghosts everyone have been seeing might be their way of trying to get someone on the other side to listen and let them through."

Thoughts of Jackie and Yvonne came to mind, the idea that they were haunting their counterparts on the other side. "Is it their souls?"

"I don't know what a soul is," Singh replied. "There is no physical aspect to a soul. For all we know, it could just be that the Cybermen are projecting something friendly and familiar to people, a manipulative signal, nothing more."

Ghosts overrunning the whole of Great Britain over there, as Cybermen attempted to flee from their plane of existence to the next, threatening them both. "We have to know what's going on there."

"How?" Miles pipped up, studying the papers spread out.

"Same way we found this out." He glanced back to Mickey and Jake. "Think you two can do a bit of reconnaissance on the other side?"

Mickey looked delighted. Jake look petrified.

"Go back home and spy? Right!" Mickey chortled. "You can see my world for a change, Jake. Show you all the places I used to hang out at, maybe introduce you to that guy I told you about, Spike?"

"This isn't a lark, Mickey. It's not old home week," Pete snapped, as Mickey looked contrite. He knew what the boy was feeling. He understood it. "I'll need the pair of you to do what you've been doing. Set up shop, do recon, figure out what these ghosts are, who has been seeing them, and what, if anything they have to do with the Cybermen. And more important, see if there's anyone on the other side who might be letting them through."

"How we going to communicate that back? The headpiece only has enough juice for twenty minutes."

"You have a solution for that?" Pete asked Singh.

The other man looked thoughtful, considering. "I can send multiple over. We can work on a charger of some sort, perhaps, or a longer battery life."

"Do it," Pete ordered. "Miles, work with these two, get a plan of action together. I want this run as a real mission and not just Mickey's trip home to show Jake his favorite chippy."

"Though, if you figure out the secret to those chips, feel free to bring it home with you. I could quit this place and retire to sell fried potatoes for a living." Miles shot at Mickey, despite Pete's exasperated glare.

"Cheers," Mickey laughed, holding up his now crumpled cone. "Jake, it's been a long time since I've been home. You'll love it."

Jake didn't look as convinced of this as Mickey did.


	13. Chapter 13

It was strange how two worlds, so similar in nature could be be so very different. It wasn't just the major differences, to Pete, the fact that Mickey's world still had a monarch wasn't all that strange, considering how recently his world had gotten rid of theirs. A lot of obvious differences made a strange sort of sense when you thought about it. It was the little things that boggled the mind. The fact that a familiar street existed in one world but not in another, or that telephone boxes in one world were seen as tourist attractions, while in the other they'd phased out long ago with the advent of earpods. Technology in Mickey's world wasn't nearly as advanced as in Pete's, but then they didn't have annoying zeppelins floating everywhere in the London skies.

And in one world, Pete Tyler had died twenty years before, while in this, it was Jackie who was the one who was gone. He had tried to ignore this fact as Jake and Mickey submitted their report on Torchwood in the other world. Of course, he should have known that there would be a Torchwood there too and was only minimally surprised to know it was Yvonne Hartman running it. He was even less surprised to put together that it was Torchwood there who might be encouraging the rift that had formed between the two worlds.

"Yvonne always was ambitious and if there was something she thought could protect Great Britain with a bigger, shinier cannon, she'd do it," Pete muttered, not happy with the news "Does she even get what she's doing?"

"Not if you ask me," Jake replied darkly. He'd manage to get on at Torchwood in the other world as part of the maintenance crew, Mickey had been clever enough to get himself into the computer support side of things, giving him access to all of Torchwood's files and the ability to wander throughout their building. "They are getting deliveries in, big ones, parts from places all over the world, especially this place in America, somewhere near Las Vegas."

"Area 51," Mickey pipped up.

Pete didn't get the reference and apparently neither did Jake, who only shook his head in exasperation. "Something they get on that side, I guess. Anyway, they are building something there, something big."

"And we think it's to open that hole wider, let the Cybermen through," Mickey clarified, passing over a thumb drive that Pete dutifully plugged into his tablet. "They have this room at the top of the building that's been hush hush, no one is allowed in, but the energy readings up there are crazy."

"I know the room," Pete replied after pulling up the schematics. "We have it at the top here."

"How much you want to bet that's about where the hole on this side is too," Mickey offered. "What if that's what is connecting the two?"

Pete had no doubt that the young man was more right than he wished. "I'll have Singh look at it. In the meantime, you two have an hour to kill before your jumpers are ready. Why don't you get out and grab something to eat, on me." He tossed a couple of bills on the table, ones Jake readily grabbed with a cheerful whoop.

"Looks like steak tonight, Mick!"

"Yeah, great!"

Pete turned sharply to the young man, who was busying himself with his knapsack. He'd never known Mickey Smith to ever turn down free food, especially not the kind Pete could afford.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a mo', Jake. Want to talk to Pete about something, right?"

A whole silent conversation happened between them, as Jake finally shrugged and nodded and shot Pete a final thank you, before wandering out of his office.

They both stood in awkward silence as light began to fade over London below.

Pete figured he might as well be the first to break it. "Something you care to chat about, Mickey?"

"Maybe," Mickey replied, shoving hands into his jean pockets. "You know, these ghosts they are seeing over there. They are talking about giving them rights and stuff."

"Sounds like a familiar conversation," Pete muttered, recalling all too well the very same debates in this world.

"I went and saw Jackie!"

Mickey blurted it out so suddenly that it took Pete a moment to process what he had said. "Oh...yeah?"

What else could he say? It wasn't as if he had gone to see Pete's dead wife.

"I just, you know, wanted to check on her. I didn't talk to her or nothing, though, I didn't know what Rose might have told her about me, you know, but I heard her on the phone to Bev, talking about her seeing her Dad, right."

"Jackie always did love her father. He was a good man." That took effort for Pete to say. He knew Jackie's father had never liked him much and the feeling had been mutual. "She's lucky to still have him in your world. He died ages ago in ours."

"That's the thingm he died ages ago in ours, too."

The penny dropped. Pete stared at Mickey, who nodded his head solemnly. "A ghost?"

"Yeah. They are everywhere."

"And so they are. The Cybermen are disappearing in droves. Jakes been noting that."

"This is Jackie, though. They are showing up at her house, and she's okay with it, 'cause she's got no one else."

"And that's sad, but she's still not my wife, Mickey!" Pete's voice rang far more loudly than he had ever intended, taking them both by surprise. With shaking fingers, Pete ran his hands across his closely-cropped hair, spinning to face twilight London. "Look, I know you were close to her, but she's a stranger to me. Your whole world is strange to me."

A world where he'd once existed and now he didn't. That was perhaps the strangest part of all in Mickey's world.

There was a long pause and a silence. He could hear Mickey shuffling on the carpet behind him. "You know, you could come and check it out. Come see it with your own eyes."

"Really? Go sight see another universe? Take pictures to show around, like on holiday?"

"Rose would," Mickey replied, half-laughing. "She'd have thought it all a grand lark.

"Yeah, well she's barely more than a girl, isn't she?"

"Jackie never got into those things, adventures." Mickey continued as if Pete hadn't spoken. "I always assumed Rose got that habit off of you."

"Not off of me," Pete hissed, turning over his shoulder to glare at him. "Off her Pete, her father."

"That Pete, this Pete, you're all the same Pete in the end, right? Whatever the Doctor or Singh say about it. I'm just saying, if you just wanted to go and see her...just check in on her, don't even have to let her see you, she's there."

"And what would your Doctor have to say about it?"

"That it's bloody stupid and like to cause a paradox." Mickey shrugged blithely. "But hell, he ain't even human and he doesn't know what it's like to miss someone the way we do."

Pete wasn't so sure about that. He'd seen the aching pain of loss reflected in the Doctor's eyes that night as Pete had agonized over Jackie. It had been what had convinced him into that van so long ago. "I have a feeling your Doctor knows more about what he's talking about, Mickey, than you do."

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't, but the offer is there. Me and Jake leave in a couple of hours." Mickey hoisted his backpack over his shoulder. "And you could come with, just to see it. Don't say the thought hasn't crossed your mind."

The thought had. Mickey was far too perceptive by half, more than he realized, likely. And it was true, he was curious about that other world. What would a world where he had died long ago be like? Would Jackie have ever changed? Would things between them have worked out, eventually, if he'd never gotten rich...or never died.

"Just, think about it, right? Be back in an hour."

Pete didn't even notice Mickey leave. He stood at his window and watched night crawl into London. He shouldn't contemplate it, not even in the slightest. He had a company to run and a secret research/protection...whatever he called it to manage. And the last thing he needed was to entertain fantasies regarding a wife he'd been in the process of divorcing at the time of her death, a wife who he missed every, single, goddamn day since.

It would be reckless in the extreme.

Not to mention dangerous.

And what if Rose's mother saw him and noticed him?

What if it made the universe implode?

That was silly, Mickey hadn't made the universe implode by coming over here, but still...he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't!


	14. Chapter 14

"Right, so when we hit the ground there, stay close," Jake ordered as Pete zipped up is leather jacket, trying hard not to feel guilty as he slipped the nylon cord of the spare jumper around his neck.

"I don't plan to run off, if that's what you are implying," Pete growled. "I did a fair bit of espionage and spying on my own before you lot showed up."

"Yeah, but you've never been in another dimension before, have you," Jake chided, his youthful face disturbingly serious. "Least till the coast is clear, right."

"He's right, Pete. We don't know who is on the other side when we land." Mickey held out Pete's jumper on it's neck cord. "Okay, so, that clock on the wall there, when it times zero, press the button."

Pete glanced towards the red, LCD clock, still at 45 seconds. "Where will we end up?"

"Always on street level on Canary Wharf, just outside of the building. Guess they don't have this room over there." Jake tugged on his jacket and grabbed his own jumper. "Should be safe enough this time of night. Few people around, but you never know."

"Brilliant," Pete muttered, wondering, not for the umpteenth time since he had decided to go along with this crazy scheme why he had allowed himself to agree to it. "I decide to jump into another world and chances are I'll get nicked by some puffed up security guard who thinks I'm there messing about."

"You'll be fine," Mickey assured him, eyes fixed on the clock above their heads. "Get ready."

Pete turned his eyes up to the flickering, red numbers. When the clock hit 0:00, he heard Mickey order "Now!" 

His fingers tightened on the plastic device in his hand.

The world compressed into nothing.

Nothing perhaps wasn't the word for it. It was more akin to be pressed through a hole so tiny he couldn't breath. For a split second, everything that made up Peter Tyler seemed to condense itself into the tiniest of particles, shimmering and shivering in the ether of existence. And then, before he could even begin to reason that out, he was gasping, heaving, as cold air and a manky, damp smell assaulted his senses.

He thought he could hear Mickey assure him. "It's all right! It always takes the wind out of you first off." 

With his hands on his knees, Pete coughed and choked, as someone patted his shoulders, thumping between the two blades as he struggled to breath.

"Bloody hell," he finally managed, standing up with streaming eyes, turning gratefully to Jake.

"Sort of like being shoved through the eye of a needle, ain't it," Jake grinned. Something about that made Pete guffaw as well, nodding.

"Right, well, here we are." Mickey cut to the chase, grinning as he waved his hands around where they stood. It was a back alley, behind the familiar hulk of Torchwood Tower. Pete glanced around, eyeing the area.

"Looks just the same."

"Pretty much is." Jake shoved his hands into his jacket. "I mean, yeah, it's different, but overall it's the same."

"No zeppelins, though," Mickey pointed out. Pete was unnerved to look up at the night sky over the Thames and discover that, indeed, none of the flying giants were about. Not that there weren't other things flying around, helicopters he noted were about. And far off in the distance, other lights twinkled and shimmered as they moved about.

"We've got airplanes, here, jets, move faster than zeppelins and are not as annoying. Never been on one, but my mate has. Flew to Jamaica once to see his family. Says it's like flying in a tube."

Pete simply stared at the twinkling lights, noting the faint sound above the noise of the city and wondered if the strange objects were those. How utterly fascinating! A boyish smile lifted his face as he turned to Mickey, who watched him with a knowing smirk.

"Told you."

Jake only rolled his eyes. "Don't get him going on how wonderful his world is. He'll talk your ear off. Now, here is a packet of their money. Use it wisely." He thrust a small, plastic baggie at Pete, heavy with coins and paper money, at first familiar, till he noticed the image of a pretty, young woman wearing a crown on the front.

"Also, you don't have a plan for your phone on this side, so take this." Jake handed him a black, plastic phone, not as sleek and nice as the tablet phone he'd left in his office, but serviceable. "It's prepaid and programmed with me and Mickey's numbers. Just find us and dial if you get in trouble."

"Right," Pete nodded, shoving it and the money into his pocket. "Anything else I should know about?"

"Nothing that's too dangerous. Most of it's the same. Telly's similar, they like footie here, cabbies are better here."

"Worlds better," Mickey agreed. "But the underground here is shit by comparison."

"So take cabs, avoid the underground, got it." Pete took a deep breath. The air smelled the same on this world. The people looked the same. Everything felt so similar. And yet, he couldn't help the prickling sensation along his neck, the feeling that everything here was so...different.

"Estates are the same place as always," Mickey offered knowingly, nodding across the Thames. "It's not that late and Eastenders should be on about now."

Pete didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that. His Jackie had always had a fondness for trashy soaps too. Instead, he chose to feel vaguely sick, only shrugging his shoulders by way of recognition. Maybe he'd go to the estates, maybe he wouldn't.

Who was he really trying to kid, anyway?

"Phone gets internet on it, if you want to look up anyone. But I'd suggest keeping your profile low with the old folk. Most of them think you're dead," Mickey warned.

"Right, no showing my face, no letting anyone believe I'm Pete Tyler or from another version of this world, got it." He forced a bright smile on his face. "When do you want to see me back, Team Leader Simmonds?"

Jake glanced at his heavy, military grade watch. "Say about ten hours, oh-six-hundred? Gives us time before everyone shows up to duck back out of here without anyone seeing us disappear."

"Okay, then." Pete paused, not sure what to do next. "Stay out of trouble, you two."

"I don't think we're the ones you've got to worry about," Jake muttered, jerking his head at Mickey. "Come on! Got night shift the two of us. Let's see what our evil, alter-ego Torchwood is up to, eh?"

"Be careful, Pete," Mickey warned with a hint of worry, before flashing a brilliant, white grin. "And don't have too much fun."

Fun? What did the bastard think he was up to anyway?

He watched the pair wander towards the eerily familiar office building, before he turned resolutely to the well known and yet strange streets of London. If he had felt unnerved simply by standing by Torchwood Tower, it was worse as he walked about Canary Wharf. Everything looked disturbingly the same. The cars were the same, the buses, they even drove on the same side of the road. The adverts were similar, though Pete didn't recognize some of the brands and products being sold. And it was clear that Vitex hadn't ever caught on in this world, as there wasn't a single billboard with it anywhere he looked. So strange to see something he had spent the better part of his life fostering simply not even existing.

He took the boys' advice, and hailed the first cabbie he could. He was friendly enough, though he did look twice at Pete in his nice, if casual clothes, when he asked to be taken to the Powell Estates. Knowing the man must think him mad, he simply said his no-good brother lived there, and that was reason enough for him, he guessed. The cabbie was chatty and friendly, and eager to sympathize with no account relatives. He had several himself, a son who'd taken to drugs and he'd seen hide nor hair of him in years, and a nephew who kept trying to mooch off his wife because he knew she was a soft touch. Pete only half listened, but had to admit quickly the cabbies in this world were better than the ones he avoided in his London. Quickly and efficiently he got Pete over the river and to the Powell Estates, with a gentle warning to be careful, and handing him a card with his number, "just in case you need to get out quick." Pete thanked him and tipped him double, climbing out of the back and turning to regard what had once been his home.

It didn't look that different here.

The Powell Estates had been built in the post-war years, quick and easy housing for the thousands displaced by the Great War as they called it in his world, He had gathered from Mickey they'd had a similar war at a similar time in this one. It was meant to be modern in design, but the gray, utilitarian blocks of flats had given very little cheer, and by the time Pete had secured one for him and his Jackie in the 80's, they've become little more than low-rent, council housing, home to those who couldn't get a job in the economic downturns or those who simply found living on the dole better than working. Not that it was all bad. After all there had been some decent folk there when he and Jackie first moved in. Poor, but all right. Sure, there were the losers, the alcoholics, the druggies, those he knew moved in bad crowds, but his memories of the estate hadn't been all bad. Not that his Jackie would have ever admitted to it, years later, when they'd moved to their fancy house and forsaken all memory of the Powell Estates.

He crossed the street, walking across the same broken cement and brick plaza, with it's shabby little shops, all closed for the night, litter and graffiti decorating their pull down shields and gated grates. The stairs at the far end still smelled of vomit and stale piss, just like always, and he made his way up the four flights to the familiar apartment that he had once inhabited in his world. Sure enough, the lights were on, the television a low murmur, and a voice he'd recognize anywhere could be heard, loud and clear, carrying through the night as if the neighbors cared about her conversation.

It was Jackie.

His heart clenched as he stopped, flattening himself against the wall by her window, not daring to peek inside for fear of detection. He instead listened. Just listened, to that same voice, one he'd had screaming at him, shrieking both in laughter and in anger, and it only just then hit him how much he missed even her acting like a shrew.

"And so I says to him 'If you can't do more than show up at my doorstep expecting me to feed and shag you, then you can take your fat arse and march it right back downstairs to the other whore you are getting to do the same thing'. And you know what...he did just that and she kicked him out too, and he's been crying across the neighborhood. And well, no one's giving him any sympathy, mind, because he's done this three other times, but still, I wish my name wasn't caught up in it."

That hadn't been the conversation he'd expected to hear. Jealousy briefly flared inside of him, before reason tamped it down, hard. This wasn't his Jackie, after all, and she'd been a widow for twenty years now. Small wonder she wasn't remarried. She could see whoever she liked, though, clearly she had no desire to see some arsehole who was willing to cheat on her with another woman just to feather his nest.

"I won't stand for it, you know. I deserve better than that, and well he knows it now. Doubt he'll be by here anymore, and good riddance. Didn't need his extra newspapers anyway."

Unexpected pride brought a smile to Pete's face. Good for her, standing up for herself. Jackie never did suffer fools lightly. Well, save him. .

"Anyway, enough about my lovelife. What are you doing? That stupid alien taking you any place fun and exotic?"

Stupid alien? It didn't take Pete long to deduce just who Jackie was talking to. Rose, the daughter that they never had in his world, but they had in this one. Something aching and sad bubbled to the surface as he listened to Jackie talking to her daughter, chattering about whatever adventure Rose was having with her Doctor, apparently involving something having to do with an event called "the Olympics".

"Well, I'm glad you got to go to the opening ceremonies, love, but you know, you could just go in a few years when they have them." Whatever Rose's comment was to that, he couldn't tell, but Pete could hear something sad and forlorn in Jackie's voice. It was clear she missed her daughter, that she was lonely, and that Jackie was feeling just a tad left out. As if she was being left behind. So strange. His Jackie was always the life of the party. His Jackie had been a trendsetter, in the thick of it, whether it was one of her many soirees, or an appearance on television, or some charity function she was in the middle of, the spotlight was on Jackie Tyler. She had led the way to fashionable vacations and smiled and waved at the paparazzi. His Jackie was never left out of anything.

"When you convincing that madman to bring you home for a visit, eh? 'Bout time I saw my daughter." More silence, as Pete strained his ears. "Well, come home soon, yeah? I have a surprise for you! No, I'm not going to tell you. You'll just have to see. I will say this, it's someone you haven't seen since you were a kid and who'd love to see you again."

Pete's gut wrenched at that. She must be talking about her ghost. Strange, though, this Jackie's father in her world died long ago, well before the Cybermen ever appeared. Why then appear as her father on this side? Unless, it was a random effort, simply picking up on a signal that would be familiar to her and acceptable, one that would make her go along with it. As lonely as she sounded, he'd bet this Jackie would agree to anything, if it meant a little company. He felt a flash of annoyance for the girl he met, the one who Jackie now chattered to about what was going on with her favorite show and what she'd missed with some celebrity he hadn't heard of. Off, gallivanting across the universe, leaving her mother behind like this. But as quickly as it had risen in him, it ebbed away. He remember himself once at about Rose's age, dying to get away from home and have adventures. He'd never gotten far, not till his Torchwood happened into his life, but he'd dreamed big dreams once and been young, hadn't he? All those fights with Jackie in their flat, just the very same as this, so long ago, when he'd twiddled and sketched and dreamed that he could do great things, all the while Jackie had yelled at him about rent and bills. Perhaps Rose wasn't doing exactly the same as him, but she was the same in that she too wanted something more in this life than watching trash telly and keeping tabs on celebs. And in the end, hadn't that been what he and his wife's argument had boiled down to? They were leading such separate lives. Jackie was happy with her projects and celebrity, and simply wanted Pete to stay and enjoy it with her. And Pete had been too busy with work and his ever growing entanglement in Torchwood. How very different had he been with his Jackie? He'd neglected her all the same. And he wished heartily, now, that he hadn't.

"Anyway, so come home soon, love. Yeah, don't get get caught up in some alien orgy somewhere and forget your mother. What! You don't think that other species do that or something? Alright, I got to wash my hair. I love you."

The phone beeped as Jackie rang off, and Pete flattened himself against the concrete wall. Inside, he could hear footsteps and rattling, dishes being carried to the kitchen, and then more footsteps coming towards the door. He held his breath, wondering if she'd come out, if he should hide.

Instead a door closed, and water began to run as Jackie began to hum loudly and off key. She was in the bath. Exhaling slowly, he rounded the bank of windows he knew led to her bedroom and went to the door. He was attempting something that was completely idiotic, dangerous, and likely to cause a shit storm of trouble. But then again, at this moment, he didn't particularly care. And he had been a spy for Torchwood for twenty years. Who was to say he would even get caught? Quietly, he tried the doorknob, finding it foolishly unlocked. Jackie always was bad about things like locking doors and closing windows, it was a wonder no one had tried robbing the place by now. With a silent of footsteps as he could manage, he slipped past the door, past the bedroom and bath, where Jackie's singing could be heard loud and clear.

He hadn't noticed till then how much he even missed her horrible, out-of-tune belting.

He paused, a rational part of his brain screaming at him this was wrong, strange, perhaps even a little on the frightening side, and he should walk out the door. But he didn't. He eased past the door where the water rushed, and into the living space. It looked different. But he supposed after twenty years it would. She'd redecorated at some point, not that it improved the looks of the place, but there was no help for that in the estates. The layout was different, the telly in the corner, the furniture arranged elsewhere. And then there were pictures, all over the place. Mostly of a dark haired little girl, with wide, cinnamon eyes. She had Jackie's pointy chin, but his broad smile, toothless in one picture, snaggle-toothed in another, quickly followed by braces. In one photo she was a tiny tot, in a leotard and tights at a gymnastics event, a small, bronze medal hanging around the frame. In another, she was proudly displaying a red bicycle, a little older, but with that devil-may-care smile. When she hit her teen years the hair changed to golden blonde, a shade or two darker than the woman who was with her, their arms wrapped around each other as they mugged for the camera, looking more like sisters than mother and daughter. And then there was one with Mickey, younger even than he was now, a kiss being planted on his cheek as he held up a pint, New Years hats on. The most recent, he guessed, was her with the Doctor and Jackie, the pair of them sandwiching her, paper crowns on their head.

Twenty years without her Pete in her life, and Jackie had filled it up with this wonderful girl. A daughter, who under different circumstances, could have been his.

Pete glanced around, looked for signs of something that was him. His old trophies were gone, his nick knacks, his tools, his drafting pads. Like as not they'd all got tossed, either from exasperation or heartache, hard to say. All that was left was a small photo, tucked on the table by the sofa, an old picture of him in his footie kit, grinning stupidly. He remembered that photo, after a day in the park with the boys, kicking a ball about, and Jackie laughing at him for acting like a child. That had happened here. That part of his memories was real here.

He reached to pick it up, to cling to it like a lifeline, something hysterical and so broken welling up inside of him. But even as he did, the water inside of the bath turned off. He froze, swearing, his heart now racing in his ears. She'd be out in a minute and she'd find him. And how could he possibly explain this to her, that he was alive and well, but from a different universe, one where he hadn't died, but Rose didn't exist?

As quietly as he could manage, he slipped back down the hall. He could hear the shower door slam shut as he quietly closed the door and slipped by, just in time to hear Jackie humming to herself as she wandered into her bedroom. He sat, listening to her for long moments, until the sound of her hair dryer kicked in.

Pete slunk back down towards the stares, guilt gnawing at him as he took the steps down, slowly. He felt like a voyeur, like a peeping Tom who'd just gone through someone else's life and left his fingerprints on it, poked through their medicine camera and pawed through their underwear drawer. How ridiculous was that, wandering into a stranger's apartment, just because she was almost the same person as his wife? Like some sort of weird stalker, mucking about her place while she was in the shower.

Cursing himself as he moved briskly past the shuttered store fronts, he paused as one kiosk at the corner caught his attention. It had been in his world too, his Powell Estates, long ago. An older man had run it, Pakistani he thought, He'd sat with papers and cigarettes and snacks, watching a battered television he kept inside with him. When he'd lived in the estates twenty years before the man had rarely said more than a handful of words to him the entire time, though he'd stopped there every day to buy a pack. Out of curiosity, he wandered over, seeing the glimmering light of moving pictures just inside the open window. He looked just the same, if older. The slowly graying hair that Pete recalled was now an iron color and he had to be in his seventies. But he was almost exactly the way he remembered, from his bored expression to battered jacket with the Tottenham football clubs logo on the front. He barely blinked at Pete as he wandered up, simply nodding politely as Pete made a show of glancing through the many papers. There was more talk of the ghosts, something about giving them rights, and the growing campaign of someone named Harold Saxon. Most of it Pete didn't pay attention to as he furtively watched the man for some sort of glimmer of recognition. So far, there was none. Twenty years was a long time. Maybe he'd forgotten Pete in the haze of faces that had come and gone over the years. Like as not, even if he did remember some mad bloke from back in the day who'd always barely scraped the money together to pay for his cheap cigs, he didn't even recognize him after the decades.

"Bit quiet around here," Pete offered, trying to strike up a conversation. The owner only nodded, barely looking up from his screen.

"Guess that's good. Better quiet than trouble." More out of curiosity than any real need, he pointed to the cheap brand he used to buy years ago. "Can you get me one of those?"

Without looking at what he was doing, the man reached behind him, grabbing the soft pack. "Six quid."

"Six?" Bloody hell! No wonder he'd stopped smoking. He dug out the plastic zip bag, pulling out the appropriate bills with their pictures of the Queen on them. The man simply grunted as he counted through them briefly and opened his till, dropping it inside.

"Cheers, mate." He snagged it and a folder of matches and turned, wandering off into the night.

For hours he walked, across the city he knew, but didn't know. Most things were the same, but there were things that weren't. Buildings where parks should be, car parks where buildings should be. Thank God, Elvis and the Beatles existed in this world, he couldn't imagine those not existing. Some things seemed ubiquitous no matter the universe; drugs, crime, prostitutes, and complaints about what the government was and was not doing. Having a monarch still in Britain didn't seem to change that tendency. The papers were filled with all of the goings on of the royals, but of the politicians too, just like home. Perhaps that was the strangest part of all, because with just a few difference it could be - almost - just like home.

The gray light of dawn was creeping in across the eastern skies when he wandered back to Torchwood Tower. He'd thought of sneaking in, but decided against it, leaving the work of espionage to Mickey and Jake. Instead he stood quietly, looking out towards the river, dragging on one of his cigarettes pensively as Mickey and Jake's voices rang out behind him.

"Wondered if you'd find us," Jake called, eyes flickering to the cig in his fingers. "Didn't know you smoked."

"Quit fifteen years ago." He dropped the burning end on the ground, rubbing it out with a toe. "You lot ready, then?"

"Yeah," Jake replied with a yawn. "Need a shower and sleep."

"And breakfast," Mickey chirped. He cut a glance at Pete carefully. "You check things out, then?"

"Yeah," Pete replied shortly. He left it at that.

"Right. About six now." Jake stared hard at his watch, grasping the jumper in his hand. Pete did the same, feeling the weight of it, cool in his fingers. "Five...four...three...two...one...now!"

Again the same compressed feeling, as if all of existence was trying to crush the life out of him. Then he stood, blinking, in his Torchwood.

And Miles Conner stood there, waiting, and was less than impressed. "Having fun out there?"

"Busted," Mickey whispered behind Pete, ignoring the fact, obviously, that this was all his idea in the first place.


	15. Chapter 15

"You know that was stupid."

"I know."

"And you did it anyway?"

"What, are you my mother?"

"Might as well be. Clearly there's no one else about to kick your arse."

Pete ignored Miles and stalked off into the large white room at the very top of Torchwood Tower. If Jake and Mickey's intel was right, in the other world, this room was being used to open the hole between the two worlds, where somewhere the Cybermen were waiting. "Nothing happened, the universe didn't end, and all I got out of it was a nasty cough from the shit cigs I smoked."

"Serves you right and you are avoiding the fact that anything could have happened over there." Miles wasn't about to let this one go. "You step off a curb wrong, you go down an alley that you thought was safe and in that world is filled with criminals, you walk into the middle of a crime scene…"

"You really do sound like my mother." Pete spun around the room, looking it over. It had been used as lab space once, even office space, and currently was the home to a series of cardboard cartons and some forgotten desks.

"Do you ever stop to consider you are the head of not just one company, but two now? That world leaders like Harriet Jones look to you for advice and insight."

"Shows you what judgement they've got. You think we can get maintenance to clean this place up?"

"You aren't taking this seriously," Miles finally cracked, bellowing into the emptiness of the white room.

Pete turned to stare at him. He'd had Miles Conner with him for years, assigned to him first as a PA, then as his assistant director for field operations. In all that time he'd only ever seen the man calm, cool, collected, and critical, usually in a sarcastic way. Unflappable, he was the level head in a crises. And how he stared at him, face red, hands on hips as he glared at Pete across the expanse of white tile floor, one strand of his normally perfectly coiffed golden hair dangling over his glasses. And in that moment, for all that Pete did know of this man who held his confidence it occurred to him that really, he didn't know the man at all.

"You don't think I'm not taking this seriously?" Pete shoved his hands into his trousers, both because it was cold in that tiled, stark room, and because he was resisting the desire to punch Miles in the face. "People's lives are at stake. Two entire universes, hell, all of reality for all I know could disappear in the flash of an eye, and you don't think I'm not taking this seriously?"

"You haven't been in the field in nearly three years and you presumed to do it last night," Miles snapped back.

"What? So I stepped all over your clean carpet and left tracks, is that what this is about? I was doing field work when you were still learning how to write your name and I don't care what special ops you did before Torchwood, how many people you killed, or if you can take me down with a brillo and a paperclip, you aren't talking to an idiot going over there."

He had rather hoped his condescension would sting a little, but it only seemed to make the other man more angry. "You weren't going over there for field work, you were going over there because Mickey wanted you to go see a woman who happens to be another version of your dead wife."

Not that it was a secret but it did make Pete flush a tad guiltily. "No harm in that, Miles. Not like she even saw me." Course, he neglected to mention how he'd snuck into her apartment like a creeper. The situation was a bit too volatile for that.

"Your wife is dead, Pete. She's not coming back. Ever!"

"You don't think I know that?" Now it was Pete's turn to roar at the other man, quickly losing patience with this situation. "You don't think I didn't realize that the minute I saw her in that dingy little apartment that I once called home that she wasn't my Jackie? Doesn't mean she isn't less of a person, does it? And her world is being threatened by something we created, that we caused to happen. And I let one Jackie Tyler die because I didn't move fast enough. Do you think I will let another die because of it? Now tell me, Miles, what's this all really about, 'cause you can't tell me you are pissed off because I went off without your permission."

As suddenly as his cool, collected friend had puffed up, he had deflated again. Whether it was Pete's anger or his point on their responsibility to the situation, he couldn't say. With shoulders slumping, he leaned against a stack of boxes, jaw working as he stared at the tile floor.

"I just didn't want all this to be some game for you. That you were trying to use this to get a Jackie back, any Jackie."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"I know." Miles huffed. A sharp look crept on his face as he peered over his glasses at Peter. "How did you know about the special ops?"

"Director. Your files are open to me."

"That's classified."

"Not to Torchwood," Pete pointed out.

"Did not know that," Miles muttered. "And should have. There are things in there I'm not proud of."

"Things I've done I'm not proud of either. So what?"

"Point was, I was here because this was supposed to be different. You know, save the world from alien invasion, meet new life forms, do something good in the world instead of tear it apart. And since I've arrived all Torchwood has managed to do is stupid shit after stupid shit and we've had to pull it from the brink. All because someone was an idiot, someone was careless. Directors were friends with Lumic, they don't seem to think twice about allowing a madman to run rampant through their files and the world almost ends. When the dust clears, there's no one left, really, save a handful of people around here who can lead, and I pushed you in that role. You were what, some spy, not even a high level one at that, most of the time you just ran a business and kept your idiot wife out of trouble. But you were good at running a business, and you loved your idiot wife and treated her right, and yeah, you were selling shit to the masses, but you were doing good things too. And you stopped a madman from destroying us all. And I believed in that, Pete Tyler. And I pushed you into this because on that night when I thought the world was burning, you helped right it again, and I thought 'that's a man I want running this place.'"

It was the most honesty he'd ever heard out of this notoriously closed mouth man. "Miles..I...don't know what to say. Thanks, I guess, for your belief in me?"

The other man snorted, shoving his glasses up his nose with an angry finger. "That's the problem. I do believe in you, Pete. But then you go and do boneheaded things like you did last night. And then I have to ask myself if I'm a complete and utter arsehole and I've made the world's greatest mistake. And this time, it's not just people's brains getting shoved into cyber bodies. It's the end of existence as we know it, all because you wanted to assuage your survivor's guilt."

There was more truth in that statement than Pete ever wanted to admit. "Did you honestly believe I was going to jeopardize the lives of everyone in two universes just because I miss my idiot wife?"

"People have been known to do stranger things. John Lumic just wanted to have a body that wouldn't fail him."

"Good point." Pete sighed, turning to spin in place, brain twisting. "You know, this wasn't ever the life I wanted to lead. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an inventor, have a lab and stuff, like Edison. And then when I got older and there wasn't money for things like school, I decided I wanted to be in a band. Didn't matter I was shit at it, chicks dug it,and I just wanted to be someone...special."

He exhaled, remembering those long ago dreams and aspirations. "I wanted to tour things, do things, change the world once. And then I married Jackie and then I thought I'd make a businessman out of myself, out of all my ideas. And you know, none of that worked. Not till Yvonne Hartman showed up and gave me a deal I couldn't refuse. I took it as a sign, a gift from fate, finally going my way. I didn't realize that it would be one of those Trojan horse type gifts, one with so many strings attached to it, right? And now, here I am. Jackie, gone, Yvonne, Lumic, gone. I'm rich. I can spend money to change anything. I head up this secret organization tasked with protecting the world and I can do anything. And really, all I want to do is go down to the pub, watch a game, have a drink, and let someone else deal with it."

That drew a laugh out of Miles, hard and ironic. "Tell me about it."

"Isn't that the pisser," Pete wondered allowed, turning to regard Miles with a chuckle. "I mean, on the telly and at the cinema, they make saving the world so glamorous, right? At the end of the day it's really just about not tripping over your own feet and hoping you don't muck it all up in the end."

"They don't tell you that when they sign you up, no." Miles agreed, standing up straight again. "And they don't tell you how bloody thankless it is, either."

"Yeah, but at least I have this side job that pays me a lot and feeds my overweening need for attention," Pete quipped dryly.

This earned another snort of laughter from Miles. "Because you love the spotlight, indeed."

"Right," Pete nodded as eyed the stack of boxes and desks. "And what is all this stuff in here again?"

"Storage. I think this was supposed to be used for some alien whatever once a long time ago, but they never got around to building it."

"Think Singh could take it over? Put his lab here?"

"Why?"

"This is where the other Torchwood is building their device, whatever it is, the one that they plan on letting the Cybermen through with. And I am willing to bet that the hole we are using is somewhere up there." He pointed to the ceiling above their heads. "I want to build something that controls the flow of what's going on in that hole, to head them off at the pass. And if we control them on this end, they can't push their way into that end."

"You don't really want to keep them here?"

"Not at all. What I want to do is to hold them off as long as possible. They'll get through eventually, but we need time to stall, time to figure out how to keep the other side from pulling them in. Slow down the flow, as it were."

Miles considered this thoughtfully. "Yvonne is still the head on the other side. She may listen to reason."

"Not if she thinks the Cybermen are a new and useful tool. You know how she was in this world. And why would she listen to us? Would you listen to me if I showed up and told you I was Pete Tyler and worked for Torchwood in a different world?"

"Point. But if she understood the true nature of what these creatures were…"

"That's just it, she doesn't. And we can't explain it to her. She'd never believe us. So we will have to stop her some other way."

"We've already got Jake and Mickey in there. We can work on a plan to stop them from that end."

"And in the meantime, I want to build something on this end to see what we can do. Get Singh in on it. And I want it fast. I don't know how much time we are going to have to do this."

It was the sort of direction that Miles appreciated and clearly needed in that moment. "I'll get right on it."

Before he could even move to carry out any plan of action, Pete paused him. "Miles, who was it?"

The other man frowned in vague surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Who you lost?"

"I don't understand?"

Pete shrugged, strolling lightly over to him. "I know so little about you. You hide yourself with your polish and your wit and it occurred to me I don't know who you are. You've worked everyday with me for what...six years? And I don't even know where you were born, or where you grew up, or what your parents did. All I have is a classified history and an employee file and I know you have impeccable fashion sense and I'm afraid to be left in a dark room with you for very long if you are angry with me. I just...don't know you, Miles Connor. And I wanted to know who was it you lost? Cause, I have to say, you screaming at me there sounded an awful lot like a man who had the thought of finding someone he lost occur to him once or twice when he found out there was a parallel universe he could just pop into."

Outside of a muscle in his cheek, Miles didn't even flinch. "It was my...partner. Omar was his name. Maybe would have married him, if his family had ever come around to it, maybe not. I was out on assignment, and there was an accident. Just...a normal, run of the mill accident. No aliens, no Cybermen, just a car with tires too thin, blow out, and then he was gone. Couldn't be helped."

For a second, Pete could see the aching loss and it made Miles suddenly human. "Did you think about going with Mickey to find him?"

"No," Miles shook his head. "I had him go look him up, though. He was happily married."

That ached. Pete sighed, thinking of what he would have done had he found Jackie with someone else, how it would have hurt. "I'm sorry, mate. But at least you know he is happy there."

"I don't know about that," Miles murmured, something of the dry sarcasm returning. "He was married to me."

For a moment, the hairs on the back of Pete's neck stood straight up, the strangeness and the rightness of it. "You, eh? Well, then, I guess somewhere it all worked out in the end."

"It did." Miles looked pensive for half a moment. "And you know, I'd not change that for a thing. Selfish bastard that I am, I could have wanted him, but you know, at least somewhere, I can take comfort that we're together and driving each other mad, right?"

"Yeah," Pete replied, thinking of Jackie, alone, with nothing but her telly and what she thought was her father's ghost.

"Stranger still, we had dogs. He was never a dog person here. I wanted the dog."

"That's all right. In the other world, I have a daughter."

"That girl you told me about? The one that was at your party?"

"Rose," he murmured, catching Miles' snort. "Yeah, like the dog. Always wanted it for a girl if we had one."

"Guess, then, we can both consider them as examples of what might have been, had things been different."

"Guess we can," Pete agreed. "So you had a partner and you like dogs. Anything else you care to share about yourself since you work for me?"

Miles pretended to look thoughtful. "I support your football sides arch nemesis."

"You really do want me to fire you, don't you?"

"That's the general ideas, sir, yeah."

"Get me my plan to stop the Cybermen first, then I can fire you and you can go support whatever football club you like."

Miles smirked, completely unapologetic. "I'll work on that."


	16. Chapter 16

The one thing Pete could always reliably say about Vitex, they knew how to throw a stonking great lunch.

The annual stockholder meeting was, under more normal circumstances, the blight upon Pete's usually crowded calendar. The annual "state of the company" as it were, it usually ended with Pete smiling and nodding to the crowd, pulling out one cheesy, fake joke after the other, unveiling whatever new products were coming out over the next, fiscal year, all culminating in a question and answer session that usually devolved into a corporate version of a stockade, with Pete being verbally pelted with metaphoric rotten tomatoes. Most of the complaints tended to circle around the dislike of a certain flavor, the desire for a certain product they had in America or Asia that is so cool and why don't we have it yet, and why was it that Pete didn't spend more time doing the job he was being paid ridiculous amounts of money to do.

He'd thought about telling them all that it was because he was busy saving the world from utter destruction at the hands of the dimension-leaping Cybermen, but refrained. Somehow, he didn't think that would play well with the press lining the walls and lurking amid the tables, like a host of vultures, picking at the lobster and salmon and drinking the champagne. Instead, he took his licks with good grace and now sat at the VIP table only half listening to the chair of the board discussing his recent golf trip to Pebble Beach in America, and his amazing, but probably highly inflated score. Pete picked at cold, chicken salad listlessly, and ignored the desire to grab at his phone in his pocket on the off chance Torchwood might have called.

"So the private zeppelin I hired to take me from Pebble Beach to Napa, gets caught in a storm, right? And we are blown inland, hundred miles or so, so we are hanging somewhere over the mountains, and fuel is low. And then Evelyn Harris, this string of a woman, has had more work down than my house, she starts getting hysterical and wondering what we would do if we crashed. And I jokingly say that we could always turn to cannibalism. So she gets shirty, says I'd do well enough, I'm big enough to feed them all till help comes, and I said, that's good, cause you've been nipped and tucked so much you'd barely be able to pick my teeth."

A round of laughter went about the table, and Pete smiled, half-heartedly, at least to keep up appearances. Andrew Berkley, the chairman of Vitex's board, was one of his good friends, despite perpetually feuding with fellow Vitex board member, Evelyn Harris. Andy did his job, did it well, and got on with Pete, which was all he really cared about. Still, Andy loved to tell his stories and he eyed Pete over his wine glass, patting his indeed, impressive belly. "You should have come with us, Pete, done a round or two. Would do you good, getting out, seeing the world. Miss having you around for these trips."

Jackie had always loved going. Pete hadn't been since she died. "Yeah, well, busy with other aspects of my business life."

"So super secretive now at days. Thought you'd locked yourself up with all your money and were hiding from the world. Besides, if you'd been with us and we'd crashed, you'd have thought of some mad way to get out off the mountain and to safety."

"Maybe," Pete replied, not so sure he'd do that, but humoring the man all the same. "Maybe I'd just find a new way of flying that wouldn't get you blown into the mountains in the first place."

He wasn't particularly sure why he'd said it. He had, of course, been thinking of the strange flying contraptions, "planes" Mickey called them, that flew higher and faster than even zeppelins did. But it caught Andrew's attention and several other curious eyes went up around the table. Investors all of them. They always were ears for new ideas and inventions.

"What, you working on a new way of flying you haven't told us about yet?" Andrew would believe it. Pete's role in Torchwood was secret, however, and the rest had no idea what he was up to. Likely they all believed he was creating something big that he planned on unleashing on the world. He only wished that were true.

"Not yet, but I've been playing with it." Sweat broke out, just a little, on his brow as he realized the hole he was stepping in. Maybe, if he had Mickey talk it out a bit with the engineering team at Torchwood, and they crossed it with whatever alien tech they had…

"Well, whatever it is, I hope you let us have a first crack at it." Andrew eyed him knowingly, as did several other board members. "I mean, you haven't led us astray yet, Pete. We trust you, trust what you bring to the table."

Oh, they didn't know the half of it.

"Sir?"

Pete turned to his assistant, who stood nervously at his shoulder. "What's up?"

"There's an important call for you outside that I need you to take."

Torchwood! Coolly as he could manage, he shot everyone one of his winning smiles. "Sorry ladies and gents, got to step out for a bit. If you excuse me."

He rose, trying not to look as if he was rushing somewhere, buttoning his jacket, waving at others at a table not far away, looking nonplussed that the world could be exploding on them right that second. Though, if he were honest with himself, he could kiss Miles in that moment for getting him out of that mess. Honestly, promising them all jet planes when he hadn't even figured out the science of it, just to sound so impressive.

"Amanda, is it Miles?" He jerked open the double doors to the conference room they'd rented for the stockholder event. To his surprise, just outside stood two, tall, brawny men in dark suits, blocking the way. Their solemn faces and the ear pieces, Torchwood design he noted, advertised loud and clear who they were and what they were there for.

"Not exactly, sir," Amanda whispered, looking more than a little awe-struck and perhaps a touch frightened. Poor girl, she'd been first Yvonne's, then became his assistant. He couldn't blame her for being a bit gun shy.

"Hello, gentleman," Pete greeted them cheerfully. "I suppose this means I have an unscheduled meeting?"

"Peter Tyler, if you'll come with us, please?"

"You could have just called my assistant, you know," he grumbled, glancing back to her. "Amanda, tell everyone I had to go. Make something up."

"Like you are meeting with the President of the Republic of Great Britain?"

"That works," Pete replied, turning back toward the men. "Suppose there's no use in trying to avoid it, is there?"

"Not unless you want to be arrested," said the older, taller one, who had a deep, rumbling voice, dark skin, and the sort of granite jaw that frankly frightened Pete just a little.

"Not exactly, not with all the press about. Come along then." He smiled at the younger, shorter man, who appeared no less threatening with his closely cropped, blonde hair and unsmiling face.

Well...bollocks!

Before the press could get wind of Pete's escort, they had him out of the back kitchen, past plates of some delectable and elegant looking puddings, out into a service area, where a black SUV sat, running. The taller man opened the door, allowing Pete to climb inside, followed by the other two.

"Off to Buckingham, then?"

Neither man seemed inclined to answer. Pete sighed. It was to be that sort of meeting.

The palace, the relic of the old days of Queen Victoria, was not far from where they had been, but long enough for Pete to be heartily glad when they pulled into the black iron and guilt gates, heavily protected and guarded. The large car pulled up to the covered portico, allowing Pete to step out, followed by his escort.

"Right this way," the taller man ordered, gesturing to the opulent palace inside.

Pete had, of course, been to the palace several times over the years, mostly for events that had Jackie crowing that she'd gotten to meet the head of the British Republic. Despite not being the home of a king or queen anymore, it still served as the home of the head of state, the President, who usually came into residence there at the beginning of their term. On the whole, the place hadn't changed that much since its days as a royal residence, much of it having been put into trust to the British people by the queen when she abdicated. Every so often it was restored and repaired, the paintings swapped around for the tourists who flooded in to take a look at Britain's heritage, but it remained, mostly, as a large, elegant monument to their country's ancient past.

Except for the part where the President actually lived.

"If you will wait here," his guard ordered as they ushered him into a parlor that looked as it came straight out of one of those silly romances that were always on the telly. Papered walls gave way to gilded furniture, and a tea set that was made of the most fragile looking china Pete had ever seen. He glanced to his two escorts with a skeptical eye.

"Suppose I can't put off tea, then? I've just eaten."

Neither cracked a smile as he grinned, but turned and left the room instead. Pete sighed. The President's escort never had any sense of humor. Instead, he wandered to the large windows overlooking the extensive lawn of the President's garden. Tourists wandered about in the summer sun, snapping photographs on tablet phones.

Steps behind him caused him to turn as Harriet Jones breezed into the room with all of the quietude of a hurricane. "Pete, you're here! Care for some tea?"

"I just ate," he smiled apologetically. Harriet didn't seem to hear him, or didn't care, as she poured two cups into the fragile china.

"How do you take a cuppa?"

"Sugar, lemon, no milk." He went along with it as the woman in her neat, dark suit quickly prepared each, passing him one of the saucers with a tight smile.

"Perhaps I should warn you that this is Queen Charlotte's personal set, so take care."

The cup shook as he nodded, wondering if he should even dare raise the delicate cup to his lips. Harriet waved him off with a rolling of her eyes, her hand fluttering as she settled herself on one of the edge of one of the delicate divans. "Don't worry, the first time I used the set, I was so nervous I dropped one of the teacups and it shattered across the floor. No one said anything, though. As it is a state treasure you would think they would."

Pete cleared his throat at the quizzical turn of their conversation, sitting carefully on the chair across from her. "I can't imagine, Madame President, you are bringing me here to have tea off of royal china." She had a point, but Harriet was hard pressed at getting to it.

"It's Harriet, Pete. We are friends here," she shrugged, leaning against the silk covered cushions. "Aren't we?"

"Sure," he quickly replied, shooting her the tried and true "trust me" smile. He'd known Harriet Jones for years, since she was a backbencher for Flydell-North. Nice enough, bit pushy when it came to her district and political agenda, had a way with the press which tended to annoy her party, which was why she'd been shunted in as their Vice Presidential candidate. It was a dead end job for her, second in line to the President. No one expected her to actually ever get into the higher office. But she had excelled in it in the years since John Lumic and proved a capable, decisive leader in the face of a lot of criticism. Britain had lucked out with her. And personally, Pete liked her. A bit flighty, yeah, but she was a good sort.

"I'd like to think we were friends," she murmured, staring into her tea cup. "That's why I supported you for Torchwood, you know. There were many in my cabinet who didn't want you there. Most wanted to draw and quarter you because of your association with Lumic. I stood up for you, said you were the one to stop him. You were the only one with sense to take over the reigns at Torchwood to ensure this didn't happen again."

With a deep sense of foreboding, Pete nodded, trying to look as appreciative as he could manage, all the while knowing she was getting at something. "And I've tried to live up to trust in me. Not easy, running two companies, that's for sure."

"Have you?" Harriet's eyes flickered back up to him, lips pursed as she set down her tea on an ornate end table.

"Have I given you reason to think I am not?"

Harriet's sharp gazed fixed on him for long moments. "When were you going to tell me about the Cybermen disappearing?"

Was that what this was all about? "Harriet, the situation is under control."

"The very creatures that turned our world upside down, and you want to tell me that the situation is under control?" Her voice snapped hard as Pete quickly busied himself with pointlessly stirring his tea. "We are just now putting ourselves together after that horrible night. Thousands dead, most unidentified, the panic and fear! And not to mention everything we had to remake once Lumic was gone. The entire network failed, the economy hit a recession the likes of which we hadn't seen in two decades, we've spent the better part of three years rebuilding, and we aren't even done yet. Do you know what would happen if word got out those...monsters are gone?"

"Better than you realize, Madam President," Pete intoned softly, looking over the rim of his antique tea cup at her. He sipped the liquid as he watched her glare at him across the elegant space.

"How long have you known?"

"A year," he replied, setting down the fragile cup and saucer, crossing his arms protectively. "We've been working on it a year already."

"And you had no intention on telling us anything?"

"What was there to tell? What in the hell could your government do about it?" Pete arched an eyebrow at her startled reaction. "Debate and resolute yourself to death on the point? Go to the UN and demand that they unilaterally come together on an issue they've not been able to agree on once in three years?"

"We at least had the right to know!"

"What? That the Cybermen are disappearing into another dimension? And yeah, that would solve our problems, but that dimension hopping is creating a gravitational pull that could destroy the planet? Should I explain to you the fact that they originally came from a different universe, and that they are trying to get back there with the aid of Torchwood on that side?"

He shouldn't be telling Harriet Jones any of this, but he spilled out, pent up too long with just himself and Torchwood knowing. For her part, the other woman looked stunned as she stared at him, eyes wide, as if Pete were spouting fantasy Frankly, it probably sounded just like that to her.

"You're serious," she murmured when he was done."

"Yeah," he rumbled, learning back into the silk cushions. "We haven't told anyone 'cause the truth will cause everyone to panic. And there's nothing they or you can do to make it better."

"We can't negotiate with them? Offer them something?"

The first go to of the seasoned politician. Pete only just did refrain from rolling his eyes. "What do you have that they want? A brain? You aren't willing to give it them? Okay, then they will leave. They are going. Like as not, Lumic had programmed them to do this very thing, if it isn't just part of whatever technology he used to copy them."

Harriet's mouth crimped unhappily as she toyed with a biscuit between her fingers. It crumbled into dust on the antique saucer and she quietly set it aside. "What are you doing to fix this?"

"Harriet, there's nothing you can do on your side for this."

"I know. But at least reassure me that you are doing something, in case someone else finds out about it and I have to answer for it."

"How did you find out?" Pete was curious to know. Usually, Torchwood activities were so secret, that even the government didn't know about it except in rumors.

"Luck, mostly. Someone in America noticed that the Cybermen were disappearing."

"Bloody Americans, always sticking their nose where it doesn't belong."

"Torchwood is doing something, right?"

"We've been monitoring the situation on both sides, and have a contingency plan in place in case the worst case scenario happens, yes." He tried to shoot her his most reassuring smile, even if he didn't feel that way. It was best not to tell the President that you were really just flying by the seat of your pants.

"Monitoring on both sides?" Harriet pulled a frown, trying to wrap her head around what he had just said. "You mean, you are sending people into another dimension?"

"Yes," Pete replied simply, as if this was a normal conversation to have.

"You mean...like science fiction. You are sending people into a different dimension?"

"Yes and we even get them back."

"You can do that?" She half sounded as if she wanted to try it herself.

"We can, but I wouldn't recommend telling the general public that we can."

"Well, of course not, but still...different dimensions. I bet that would make several scientists' heads explode." She laughed at the idea, picking up her tea to sip at it. "Can you stop this, Pete?"

If he were honest, he'd say he didn't know. Instead, he nodded with a wide smile. "You can trust me, Harriet. We have the situation under control."

Even as the last syllable left his lips, his tablet phone vibrated in his breast pocket, thrumming against his chest. He didn't need to look at the screen to see that it was Torchwood.

"I'm sorry, Harriet, if you would just let me take this." He pulled the device from his jacket, glancing at the message. He swallowed hard, burying the worry that rose to the fore as he glanced back up at the President.

"As luck would have it, they have good news for me back at HQ regarding the situation. I'll need to get to Canary Wharf to see to things. If one of your drivers could get me over there?"

"The world isn't about to explode, is it Pete Tyler?" Harriet glanced at his phone with wary eyes and Pete felt a little bad that he was lying so obviously to her.

"Not today."

It wasn't completely reassuring, but it at least allowed her to relent. "Fine. I'll have you escorted to Torchwood Tower. But if it hits the fan, Pete, I better be the first to know, not the last."

He smiled, slipping the phone into his breast pocket. "Believe me, Madam President, if it hits the fan, there's no way I could even hide it from you."

Harriet gulped down her remaining tea and glared at him.


	17. Chapter 17

He didn't even bother to greet them as he marched into the top most room in Torchwood Tower, cluttered with boxes and wiring from the current efforts to convert it to a lab. Miles was already there, along with Singh's team, Jake, and Mickey, scanning through a tablet furiously. It was Jake who spoke up first, glancing at Pete from over Mickey's shoulder, where he too had been reading through the data. "It's not just that the Cybermen are appearing as ghosts, Torchwood is controlling it all," he growled, nodding at the screen that Mickey's eyes ran over quickly. "They have shifts set up, like clockwork or something?"

"Why?" Pete glanced at Miles and Singh, neither of whom appeared to have a clear answer.

"I do," Mickey intoned, stilling as his face turned gray in the light of the tablet screen. Wide eyes turned to Pete with a grim expression. "It's all a trap."

"A trap? For who?"

"For the Doctor."

Pete simply blinked at Mickey mutely.

"The Doctor?" Singh glanced at the group in clear confusion. Out of all of them, he was the only one who wasn't clued in on the true hero of the Battle at Battersea so long ago. Pete didn't even know where to start to describe him, but thankfully he didn't have to. Jake stepped in quickly enough.

"He's this bloke from this other universe, from where Mickey is from. This time traveling, genius alien. And he was the one who knew about those Cybermen and how to stop them."

Singh looked doubtful, dark eyebrows arched dubiously as he looked to Pete. "This all true?"

"Met him myself," Pete assured him, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. "He's mad and a genius. But what does Torchwood want with him? And how did you find out about it?"

"Found it in the data dump," Jake replied, waving towards the tablet screen. "Mickey and I've been secretly copying as many of Torchwood's files as we could lay hands on and anything else we found interesting. Schematics, plans, designs for all sorts of crazy things, records, you name it."

"I had them doing that, sir." Miles cut in smoothly with a grim expression. "After all a different world, a different Torchwood, I didn't want a resource to go to waste. We may never be able to have an opportunity like this again, and I wanted to get as much information as I could."

"Anyway," Jake continued. "We found out that they were the ones controlling the ghosts. They have these levers in their version of this room. They let them go at certain times, and then ghosts appear."

"And all to try and lure the Doctor to them?" That was the mad part of all of this in Pete's mind. Playing with something this dangerous, all to convince a half-mad alien to show his face? "What do they want with him?"

"With them," Mickey corrected, his full mouth pulled tight. "They want the Doctor and Rose Tyler."

Pete ignored Singh's surprised reaction, scrubbing his face in distraction. "What in the hell would they want with the pair of them?"

"It's in their charter. You know, just like Torchwood here has, except in my world, Queen Vic wasn't bitten by a werewolf and didn't abdicate. She was saved."

It wasn't hard to figure out how that change in events occurred. "Let me guess, Rose and the Doctor?"

Mickey nodded his dark head. "They told me about it, once. Thought it was funny, kept trying to tease her, and she got right annoyed. Decided to banish them from the kingdom." He sighed, worried gaze flickering to the screen. "Guess they never took her seriously. Didn't know that Torchwood was after them."

All of this havoc, just to draw the attention of one alien and a girl barely older than a teenager? "Bloody hell, what's Yvonne playing at?"

"Perhaps it's not just about the Doctor and Rose," Miles offered thoughtfully. "Mickey, pull up the information you have on the room at the top of their Torchwood Tower?"

With quick flicks of his fingers, Mickey pulled up a file, turning the screen so that the others could see. All the screen held was a blurry image of a giant sphere. "Jake and I took to trying to figure out what this room was used for."

"They were keeping bloody tight lipped about it. But I chatted up one of the detail," Jake smirked. "Turns out that the reason there's a ship in there, some sort of round one. They don't know what's in it, but they think the ghosts are coming from there."

"The Cybermen. It's how they are getting through." Pete looked to SIngh for confirmation.

"Possibly. We've never been sure how they teleported. Perhaps that's the device that did it and their Torchwood has it."

"In which case they could be sitting on a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off," Miles interjected. "If they figure out how to open that thing, there could be Cybermen all over the place there. And it could be the signal for all their little buddies from this side of reality to go and join them."

"And if that happens, the pull on the gravitational forces in this dimensional hole could destroy us all," Singh finished, glumly.

No matter how you looked at it, Pete realized, they were screwed.

"How do we stop it, then?" He looked to Miles for this. "Is there a way we can prevent them from opening that ship?"

"Maybe, but doubtful. They've been trying for a long time now. Years. It might just open on its own. But we could be ready for them if they do succeed. Stop the Cybermen before they can signal to the rest to join them?"

"Be waiting with guns ready to blast them out of existence," Mickey chortled, high fiving Jake, who looked inordinately pleased by the idea.

"Do we have anything that will blast that many Cybermen out of existence," Pete mused, unimpressed with the younger two men's schoolboy antics.

"That I would trust Mickey with? Sure," Miles murmured with a doubtful eye to a now wounded Mickey. "The key is when? We don't know when they will open that thing, and if we can get Mickey in there."

"Except we do know that's why they are trying to get the Doctor in there," Mickey pointed out, snippily, shooting his superior a dark look for questioning his weapons capabilities. "They can't open it, but I'm betting that they think the Doctor can. And they know the Doctor can't resist a good mystery. That's why they are doing the thing with the ghosts. They lure him in with that, trap him and Rose, and use her to force him to open it for them."

"Years of trying on their own and failing and they would go to all that trouble to get one man in there to open it for them?" Singh was the only only one who sounded doubtful about this. The other four men all glanced at each other and nodded, knowing that's exactly what they were doing. They all knew what the Doctor was capable of.

"Dr. Singh, if you are ever given the chance, I hope you meet the Doctor," Pete replied. "Not that you'd get a word in edgewise. If there's anyone who knows what he's dealing with, it's him."

"And he'd willingly just put all of us in peril?" Singh still wasn't convinced.

"No. But if they had Rose, he could be made to do anything," Mickey muttered darkly. He spun on Miles. "Let me be the one over there. My guess, if they are amping up these ghost sightings, the Doctor will show up soon. He'll have to notice."

Something vague tripped at Pete's memory, the half-remembered conversation between Jackie and Rose that he'd overheard on his one, brief visit to Mickey's world. "Jackie told her she wanted her to visit soon."

All eyes turned quizzically to Pete. He cleared his throat, nodding at Mickey pointedly. "Jackie's been seeing a ghost of her dad, yeah. You said it yourself. She wants Rose to come home so she can see him. And if Rose comes, the Doctor will, and he's going to want to check this out."

If anyone thought his references to Jackie were strange, no one said anything, least of all Singh.

"I can't just pop in on Jackie. She might think I was dead." There was more than a hint of regret in Mickey's voice. "I've spied on her enough. A wonder she hasn't noticed."

"No, but you go to the old neighborhood enough. Think you can keep an eye out for the Doctor's ship?"

"The TARDIS? You can't miss it. Wonder you can't hear it across the city."

Pete looked to Miles. "If they are going to act, it's soon. Have Jake monitor Torchwood, Mickey, you hang about the estates. The minute you see the Doctor and Rose, you let Jake know. You come back here. We'll arm you up and send you back and hopefully you can stop whatever they are trying to do."

It was a half-assed plan at best. But it was better than not having one at all. He thought of his conversation with Harriett Jones, how confident he sounded. God, what a git he was. This was all patched together with tape and twine, and if they all didn't die at the end of it all, it would be a small wonder.

"I hope that the Doctor is in this madness," Pete sighed, studying Mickey's tablet screen. "He's the only one in the universe, I suspect, who can fix this, close that breech. Maybe with him in it, we won't all end up killed."

"Me too," Mickey sighed, quietly.


	18. Chapter 18

It didn't take nearly as long as Pete expected that it would.

Miles ran off orders to the team gathered around him, dressed in black and looking solemn. They were typical Torchwood unit, all young, in their twenties, but Miles had picked them all carefully. This mission was top secret, few outside of the inner circle around Pete knew about it. Frankly, as he studied them all gathered there, he thought they looked little more than babies. Hardly older than the girl, Rose. Sending in sons and daughters of men and women in this world to another world to go and fix the mess that Torchwood had started.

"Mickey!" Miles barked as the younger man snapped his attention towards the Assistant Director. "You'll move in ahead of the tactical team. You know this world and you know the Doctor and Rose Tyler. You know what to look for. You are armed and prepared, but if anything happens, you call control. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah," Mickey replied solemnly, looking nothing like the wide-eyed kid who had wandered into this world years ago. He reminded Pete more of Ricky Smith than Mickey. Still, there was that tinge of fear as he fingered the gun at his side. Good! He understood how dangerous this was.

"Jake, you will lead the tactical team after." Unsurprisingly, Miles turned to the most seasoned of the pair to head up the team. Jake too had grown up from his Preacher days. No longer the street thug, he had the makings of Miles' protege. If he succeeded in this mission, and they didn't die, Pete would have to talk to Miles about Jake taking more of a leading role.

"Right," Jake murmured, stepping forward to address the team. "Chrissie, your communications for the mission. Harry, you and the rest will be security and strike. If you see a Cybermen, destroy. Leave any civilians alone. Our main objective is the Cyberleader. Cybermen always look to one for direction. We find them, we neutralize them, the rest will stop."

Miles held up one of the jumpers in his hand. "You've all been issued the latest version of our trans-dimensional jumpers. These have a longer charge and can instantaneously jump back and forth between our reality and theirs. They are good for twenty of these jumps, so use them carefully, all right. If you see a man down…"

He paused, grimly, eyeing them all over his black-rimmed glasses. "If you see a man down, bring them home. We don't want to leave this technology on that side, as they don't have it. And we want their family to get them back, please."

Pete felt slightly ill as he watched each of the young faces nod, hard determination on their expressions.

"Right. You have your orders. Let's move." Miles stepped away, nodding at Mickey. Without a single word, Mickey pressed his jumper. In a flash, he disappeared. A slight murmur could be heard from the team, but nothing more.

"Mickey knows what he's supposed to be doing?" Pete frowned at Miles, who had wandered over to join him in the cluttered but functional top room of Torchwood.

"He'll communicate to Jake what he finds, before their team moves. Mickey's smart, he can run point." Miles glanced at the tablet in his hand. "I'm going to run down to mission control to better oversee this thing." He looked up at Pete, a hint of a smile on his face. "You can handle this, boss. This is your mission. Pete Tyler, out to save the world."

"And if I destroy it?"

"Than none of us will know how bad you mucked it up, will we? We'll all be dead." Miles smirked, handing him the tablet. "Jake and Mickey are under orders to bring the Doctor here if they find him. I'll leave the finer points of that interaction to you."

"If he lets me get a word in edgewise, yeah." Pete grimaced as he grabbed the tablet firmly, recalling the last time the Doctor was in their world. "He's the only one who can close this breech. He'll know what to do."

"I hope you're right." Miles nodded, glancing to Jake. "Five minutes, Simmonds."

"Right, boss." He waved to him as he continued to brief his team. Miles turned, leaving them to the command center. Pete watched him go, quietly hoping that this would all work. It was the only chance they had. Stop the Cybermen, prevent them from making the breech worse, and close it. The closing was the tricky part, and that was where the Doctor fit in. The mad, time and space traveling alien was the only one either Pete or Mickey could think of who could fix this. And if he couldn't...Pete didn't want to think of what would happen if he couldn't.

Time ticked by slowly, as Pete listened to communications downstairs from Mickey. Something about Rose and something called Daleks. He turned to Jake, who could hear everything clearly himself on his own ear piece. Jake's jaw tightened, but he waited, eyes glued to the watch on his wristband.

Ten...nine...eight…

The second ticked by so slowly, Pete wondered if the clock was moving at all. When the digital numbers hit zero, he turned to see the flash that was the tactical team standing right in front of him. Only two of their number remained behind with him, there to jump in at a moments notice.

Pete waited.

It only took a few minutes, even if it felt like a lifetime. He could hear the commands on the other end and the voice of the Doctor, shocked, surprised. Within half a heartbeat Jake reappeared in the room, a startled looking Doctor standing by his side. He looked almost exactly the same as when he'd last seen him, three years before, tall, gangly, dark hair even more of a tangled mess, and completely startled. Pete almost smiled in relief.

"Parallel Earth, Parallel Torchwood," Jake was saying, the rest of a conversation started on the other side. "Except we found out what the institute was doing and Pete took control."

Whether the Doctor was listening or not, he stared around himself wildly, dark eyes brewing as he shook Jake off desperately. "I've got to get back. Rose is in danger, and her mother…"

"That'd be Jackie," Pete called, catching the Doctor's attention. "My wife in a parallel universe."

It sounded so strange to say it. He'd denied the fact that Jackie was his wife for so long, that it felt as if he'd just given in to the inevitable. The Doctor stared at him, not displeased, but certainly caught by the fact that Pete knew who Rose and her mother were. "And as for you, Doctor, at least this time I know who you are."

Impatience and exasperation flickered angrily across the thin man's face. "Right, yes, fine, hooray! But I've got to get back right now."

"No," Pete replied simply. Even in saying it, he could see a storm coalescing in the other man's gaze, one he was certain would break ugly on him if he didn't take a stand. He doubted that this Doctor had many people tell him no. Pete always had the distinct impression that the Doctor always knew he was the most impressive and capable being in the room. And usually, that was because he was. Which was why he needed him.

"You're not in charge here," Pete reminded him, ignoring the terrifying coldness forming on the Doctor's face. "This is our world, not yours, and you're going to listen for once."

Whether the Doctor intended to or not was hard to say. The man merely pierced him with eyes so hard and black, Pete was shocked he wasn't actually physically bleeding from it. Then, with a shrug, he whipped around, moving to the far curve of wall, pressing his body against it, long fingers sprawling across it, his ear laying there as if listening.

"When you left this world, you warned us there would be more Cybermen," Pete began, carefully approaching him. "So we sealed them inside the factories."

"Except people argued," supplied Jake in mild annoyance. "Said they were living. We should help them."

"And the debate went on," Pete continued. "But all that time, the Cybermen made plans. Infiltrated this version of Torchwood, mapped themselves onto your world, and vanished."

"When was this?" The Doctor's grim mouth barely moved.

"Three years ago," Pete replied.

The Doctor pulled away, nodding as he faced the other two. Whatever he had been doing, he wandered, Pete leading the way out of the room and out into the hallway beyond. There, a large pane of glass looked out over London.

"It's taken them three years to cross the Void, but we can pop to and fro in a few seconds?" The Doctor stopped, as wheels turned almost automatically and Pete wondered if he already had it all mostly worked out already. "Must be the sheer mass of Cybermen crossing all at once."

The fact the Doctor could do that was rather frightening, Pete decided.

"Yeah, Mickey said you'd rattle off that sort of stuff." Pete gulped. He quietly directed Jake and the Doctor out of the room and to the hallway beyond.

Like a child with a new toy, the Doctor perked up at the mention of the man who used to travel with him. "Oh, where is the Mickey Boy?"

"He went first," Pete explained, ruefully. "Any chance to go and find Miss Rose Tyler."

The Doctor's delight turned into frankness in a nanosecond. "She's your daughter. You do know that. Did Mickey explain?"

His daughter. Pete tried hard not to scoff in the other man's face.

"She's not mine. She's the child of a dead man." Pete turned to the scene of London spread below. "Look at it," he breathed, barely recognizable as the same world the Doctor had left behind three years before. "A world of peace. They are calling it the Golden Age."

"Who's the President now," the Doctor asked mildly as he came to stand beside him.

"Harriet Jones," Pete replied, knowing that the Doctor would recognize the name.

As before, the same sad distrust flickered as he grimaced. "Ooof, I'd keep an eye on her."

"But it's a lie," Pete continued, as if the Doctor has said nothing. "Temperatures have risen by two degrees in the last six months. The ice caps are melting. They're saying all this is going to be flooded. That's not just global warming, is it?"

"No,' the Doctor replied quietly.

"It's the breach?"

"I've been trying to tell you," the Doctor sighed, impatiently. "Travel between parallel worlds is impossible."

It took several long seconds for Pete to figure out what he meant by that. Not that travel between parallel worlds wasn't attainable, travel between parallel worlds shouldn't happen. That realization made him sick. They had long known that the Cybermen's attempts were posing a threat to their world, it was why they had done this. It had not occurred to any of them that they were adding to the problem with every jump between worlds that they made.

But the Doctor continued, unaware of Pete's horror in his aggravation. "And then the Daleks break down the walls with a Sphere."

That was a word he hadn't heard before. "Daleks?"

The Doctor ignored him as he continued to rant. "Then the Cybermen travelled across, then you lot. Those discs? Every time you jump from one reality to another, you rip a hole in the universe. This planet is starting to boil. Keep going and both worlds will fall into the Void."

"But you can stop it," Pete insisted, cutting into the Doctor's anger desperately. He had to stop it. He was the only one who could. "You can seal the breach?"

"Leaving five million Cybermen stranded on my Earth?" the Doctor shot back as if he thought Pete mad. And perhaps Pete was. But all he knew was that his world would be destroyed. And the Doctor's world at least had him in it.

"That's your problem," he replied, more coldly than he thought himself possible, and hated himself for it. "The famous Doctor. You can seal the breach?"

The Doctor studied him for a long moment, midnight dark eyes eyeing him critically. What did he see, Pete wondered? Did he see the Pete Tyler who had fathered his beloved Rose? Or did he see a man who had, for the last three years, fought and struggled, who had lived and breathed this threat, and who just so terribly wanted it to be done, to keep his promise to Harriet Jones, to not fail this time, not like he did the last.

"Hmmm," the Doctor chuckled, thoughtful. "Pete Tyler, I knew you when you were dead." Ignoring how odd that statement sounded, he continued in that warm, condescending way of his, as if Pete were a particularly cute child. "Now here you are, fighting alone. There's a chance, back on my world. Jackie Tyler might still be alive."

He saw in an instant what the Doctor was up to, and he wasn't going to play that game. "My wife died."

"Her husband died. Good match," the Doctor replied breezily.

He was trying to talk Pete into not simply closing the breach, but defeating the Cybermen while they were at it. And the sad thing was that he was succeeding. The thought of saving Rose's mother when he had failed his own wife was far too tantalizing.

"There's more important things at stake," Pete replied, and didn't know who he was trying to convince, himself, or the Doctor. He stared at him with pleading helplessness. "Doctor...help us."

"What, close the breach? Stop the Cybermen? Defeat the Daleks?" The alien leaned in close, his dark eyes boring through Pete. "Do you believe I can do that?"

"Yes," Pete replied, simply.

The Doctor pulled away, shrugging as he did so. "Maybe that's all I need. Off we go, then!"

And like that, the Doctor whipped around, back to the room, snagging one of the jumper discs from a table as he went. In Pete's ear he could hear Miles snapping at him, telling him not to do what Pete knew very well he was going to do. The Doctor strode ahead, a mad, pied piper, grinning as Jake joined them with a determined air.

"So, a trans-dimensional device tucked inside these things. Quite clever. How did you manage that?" The Doctor studied it, flipping it over in his long fingers.,

"Had one of scientists bastardize the original technology Lumic used. Most of it was from your universe, we think. The rest is alien technology we've either found on our own or has been lent to us by our partner civilizations."

"Partner civilizations? You don't work by the axiom of 'it's alien, it's ours'?"

"Don't make friends that way, no." Pete wondered at the bitterness underlying the Doctor's words. "How are we going to do this?"

"Well, I thought we'd pick up our clever devices and just push the buttons." And without warning, the Doctor pressed his jumper. Cursing, Pete rushed to follow suit, Jake just behind.

The familiar squeezing sensation deposited them in a room, very much like the one they just had left, only less cluttered, sterile, and empty. In its middle, levers rose from the floor. Pete spun around, staring. It was almost the copy of the room they had just left, save for the lack of clutter and the painful, gleaming whiteness of it.

"Jake, you know anyplace that has good mobile service around here?" The Doctor reached inside his pocket. Pete expected him to pull out his sonic device once more, but instead, he pulled out a mobile telephone.

Jake glanced at Pete and grinned. "No, but I know where Yvonne Hartmann's office is. Come on!"

Wondering, Pete followed the pair, out to the elevator that looked nearly the same as the one they used. Not as smooth, he noted, but it got them down to the floor he recognized by heart. It was where his office was and where Yvonne's office would be in this building.

"Doubt she'll be using this," Jake called, briefly checking out the space. Not as posh as it was in his world, Pete noted, and it strangely was a relief, knowing that not everything was a mirror image from his Torchwood to this one.

"First of all, I need to make a phone call. You don't mind?" The Doctor didn't seem to care one way or another if they did. Jake smirked and told Pete to cover the door. Pete did, watching as the Doctor dialed on an old fashioned, hand held phone on Yvonne's desk and started a conversation that they only had one side of.

"Jackie, you're alive!" Pete ignored the small leap in his heart at the Doctor's words. "Listen…"

Whatever he would have said obviously got cut off by Jackie. Judging from the faint sounds even Pete could here, she was in her usually, high hysterics. He tried not to smile, to remind himself that this wasn't his wife.

"Shush, listen, tell me where are you." The Doctor's patience was already wearing thin. "Yeah, which one? Is there any sort of sign? Anything to identify it?"

Clearly, the Doctor didn't know Jackie well if he expected sensible out of her in a crises.

"North corner, staircase three," the Doctor said, having apparently figured out where she was. "Just keep low, we're trying our best."

Without any further explanation, he rang off, looking to Pete. "I've got to go. I'm sorry."

Pete blinked back at him. He'd promised to fix the breach, to fix all of this. And now he was waltzing off to save a woman who happened to look an awful damned lot like his wife.

The Doctor met his frustration with ancient, dark eyes. "Jacqueline Andrea Suzette Tyler."

"She's not my wife," Pete insisted, wishing someone would just listen to him on this, especially the niggling part of his own heart that wished desperately that she was.

"I was at the wedding," the Doctor continued, mockingly accusing him. "You got her name wrong."

How had he known that? Over twenty years ago that had happened. Their wedding, him in his borrowed suit, her in pale pink, him stumbling over her name - who gave their child four names anyway - and her saying it was all right, she'd seen it happen on Eastenders, she supposed it could happen to anyone. That had happened. The Doctor had seen it and it really had happened here.

"Now, then, Jakey boy, if I can open the bonding chamber on this thing." The Doctor spun off to snag Jake's gun, studying it, apparently knowing what he was doing. Like a whirlwind he was, a hyperactive child with the power of the universe in his hands. "It'll work on polycarbide."

"What's polycarbide," Jake wondered aloud, starring in vague worry as the Doctor prodded his weapon, as fearful as Pete regarding the Doctor and what he was up a high powered, alien grade gun.

"Skin of a Dalek," the Doctor murmured, his tongue clicking on the last syllable.

They were fighting Cybermen, weren't they? Pete felt disgruntled, knowing the Doctor never had answered his earlier question. "What is a Dalek?"

If it occurred to the Doctor he'd been rude and not explained, he certainly didn't seem to care. "Daleks are a race of mutants housed inside polycarbide bodies, though, when I say housed, really it's more integrated as they have sensory perception out of those bodies much more effectively than they do with their own flesh."

"So like Cybermen, yeah?" Jake nodded, attempting to make sense of it.

"Except Daleks aren't human, and never have been. They'd cringe at the idea, frankly, as they find your entire race disgusting." The Doctor reached into his jacket, and this time pulled out his screwdriver. It whirled as he poked the gun carefully. When he noticed the blank and vaguely horrified stares on his compatriots faces, he shrugged. "Nothing personal. Daleks think everyone who isn't a Dalek is disgusting and worthy of extermination, human, Zygon, or otherwise. They hate my people the most, but that's a whole other story."

As mad as that all sounded to Pete, somehow he couldn't say it shocked him. "So what are they doing here?"

"They are the ones that caused this whole mess in the first place." The gun opened, and he fiddled with its insides, pocketing something from it. "They got themselves a Void ship. It's able to travel the void between parallel universes. Should only be theoretical, none of my people thought it was possible. But they have one, and they've been waiting there, all these years, hiding."

His expression fell and faltered, melting into something broken, sad, and weary. In an instant, it was gone, however, as he patted his jacket pocket, where the bit from the gun lay, impossibly concealed in a space that should have been too small for it. "In any case, the Daleks decided to make their appearance, they began pushing through the void, trying to get to this universe. Only problem was, they were bad at it. Daleks are horrible time travelers, never could get the knack of it, and when they did hit on this universe, it caused a crack in reality, opening up the walls between this universe and the closest one to it."

"Ours," murmured Pete. It all started to make a weird sort of sense.

"That's how the Cybermen fell into your world in the first place," the Doctor replied, grim and apologetic. "They were never supposed to be there, not really. They were always just in this universe. My guess is that, somehow, one of them fell through the cracks forming in between realities, the ones the Daleks were causing. Your Torchwood got a hold of it, gave it to Lumic, and the rest you can already guess."

"So when the Cybermen started disappearing, they weren't just following some random signal that Lumic had set up," Jake pieced together. "They were coming back the way they came….coming home."

"And now the Daleks have come through, and they've brought some hitchhikers along with, and it's going to get real interesting here soon if we don't figure out how to keep them from blowing each other apart." The Doctor's manic grin returned as he bounded across the space, leading the way. "So, next course of action, we have to find a random Dalek."

"Find them? Why?" Jake rushed to keep up, looking as alarmed by that idea as Pete felt, as he too raced after.

"Well, if we want to find out who's bright idea it was, got to get them to take us to their leader, eh?" He flashed white teeth at the pair of them as he popped one of the elevator buttons.

"You said these Daleks hate everyone, your people especially," Jake growled as the elevator opened to let them in. "How do you know they won't just kill you?"

"Because I'm the Doctor," he replied, the manic grin only widening in an expression that was looking more and more mad.

"That's reassuring," Pete breathed darkly as the elevator dropped.


	19. Chapter 19

It was a scene straight out of his nightmares.

Over the last three years his guilt-ridden brain had envisioned scenarios very much like this one, all on the darkest of nights, in the deepest of sleeps. Jackie, caught between silver bodies, fear in her wide, frightened blue eyes as she looked for anyone to help. And Pete wanted to reach for her, to snag her out of harms way, but at the last moment, his fingers failed to grasp her, his feet tripped and tumbled him before he could even scream her name, and she would disappear, vanish into a faceless wall of identical, robotic faces. He had failed her. He had let her die.

Pete's heart failed, his mouth dry, as he whipped around the corner of the stairwell marked N3. He'd recognized the sign. He skidded to a stop, the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey nearly barreling into him as he turned to the Doctor with triumphant glee. Without a second thought for the other three, he threw the door to the stairwell open, hurtling down the concrete steps, to find the woman who looked exactly like his late wife crouching between Cybermen on either side of the narrow stairwell, begging for her life. The tang of fear and adrenaline filled his mouth. He took his weapon and fired. Like tin cans they toppled, falling over before Jackie's startled face. It only occurred to Pete vaguely that he'd actually never really shot anything before in his life, as he stared at the silver bodies that had once been people in his world. Standing up from the wreckage, Jackie stared at him, her face pale under her thickly caked make up.

"Pete?" His name was barely a whisper out of her.

Behind him, he thought he could hear Rose gasp. But he couldn't help the smile that ghosted across his lips. "Hello, Jacks."

Tears welled between her mascara caked lashes, disappointment glittering as she shook her head. "I said there were ghosts, but that's not fair. Why him?"

Her anguished question nearly broke his heart. "I'm not a ghost," he tried to assure her. That pronouncement only confused her further.

"But you're dead. You died twenty years ago, Pete."

It wasn't Pete who answered her heart-wrenching question, but the Doctor. Pete hadn't even noticed the other three following him, and now the other man tentatively stepped forward, desperate to explain. "It's a Pete from a different universe. There are parallel worlds, Jackie, every single decision we make creates a parallel existence, a different dimension where…"

"Oh, you can shut up," Jackie snapped. Clearly her shock and wonder had worn off and she only glared at the Doctor, perturbed, before turning her frown on Pete again. "Oh, you look old."

"You don't," he shot back with a smile. And she didn't. She didn't look any different than the woman he'd last seen three years before and it crushed him that this wasn't even the same woman.

Clearly, Jackie struggled as much with this as he did. Her face crumpled, he could see her trying to wrap her head around it. "How can you be standing there?"

"I just got lucky," Pete shrugged, thinking of what he knew about her husband, of how he died. "Lived my life."

It hurt, seeing the flicker of pain in her eyes as he pointed out that he had survived when her Pete had not. "You were left on your own," he pointed out awkwardly, trying hard not to sound so blatantly speculative. "You didn't marry again, or…"

"There was never anyone else," she piped up quickly, perhaps a touch too fervently. "Twenty years, though. Look at me. I never left that flat. Did nothing with myself."

Her regret tugged at him far more than he would have expected.

"You brought her up," he offered sincerely, glancing towards the blonde girl eyeing the pair of them warily. "Rose Tyler. That's not bad."

Jackie glanced towards her daughter, pride pulling evidence by her small smile. "Yeah."

Pete thought of Jackie's apartment, covered in photos of the daughter who didn't exist in his world. Not a single sign of Pete left there, not even his trophies. All his mad schemes tossed out, and perhaps with good cause. Jackie had bigger things to focus on and she'd done all right.

"In my world, it worked," he murmured, knowing it was a non-sequitur by the confusion on Jackie's face. "All those daft little plans of mine, they worked. Made me rich."

"I don't care about that," she sniffed dismissively, before pausing. "How rich?"

Same old Jackie, he thought with a smile. "Very."

"I don't care about that," she repeated, before raising one canny eyebrow. "How very?"

She was so very Jackie...his Jackie. Her earlier words echoed. It was so not fair, finding her here like this, knowing it was her, but not his real her.

"Thing is, though, Jacks, you're not my wife." As gently as he said it, his words were harsh. And he could see the faint glimmer of hope fade quickly in her bright, blue eyes. "I'm sorry, but you're not."

She nodded shortly, agreeing with him as she desperately tried to hide something vulnerable, and Pete felt himself stumbling to make any of this better. "I mean, we both...you know, it's just sort of…"

God, were those tears forming in her eyes? He hated it when Jackie cried!

"Oh, come here." He put his gun down as she ran into his open arms, softer and warmer than he remembered, but oh so wonderfully alive.

"Pete, I hate to ruin the reunion, but we've got to go." The Doctor tugged as his sleeve, earning a watery but murderous look from Jackie as she spun away from Pete's tear stained shirt to glare at the other man.

"Look at you, get us into this mess, and now you want to drag me off on your madness. What if I don't want to go?"

"Jacks," Pete soothed, out of habit really. "We can't stay here. We've got to get you out."

"Before that, I need in that factory," the Doctor muttered, dragging Pete and Jackie along, Rose and Mickey in step behind. "Torchwood this side collects so many rather nifty things. Is that what your Torchwood does, Pete?"

He blinked, holding desperately to Jackie's hand as they ran down the concrete stairs, trying not to trip at the Doctor's brisk pace. "We gather things, usually stuff left behind. Space junk, really, tourist rubbish. Aliens come, they leave stuff behind, we take it. We have contact with a few races, there is trade of a fashion, mostly raw materials for information on what we have or perhaps useful things we can benefit from."

"All for the glory of the British Empire?" The Doctor shot back, eyes dark as he glared at him.

"We don't have a British Empire," Pete gasped out.

"What's all this about aliens, Pete?" Jackie heaved behind him, breathless as they continued down. "I thought you said you were rich? You made all your stuff work?"

"That part is true," the Doctor clarified, as he came to a dead stop finally at the bottom of the stairs. "In Pete's world, he made a go at Vitex. He's rich. But he also became head of a secret organization named Torchwood. On this world, it seems, their entire reason for existence was to capture anything alien that might be a threat to the British Empire. Seems Rose and I peeved good Queen Victoria just a tad, and she felt anything alien, even when helpful, was either a danger to her vision of "normal" or a tool she could use to exploit. And here we are now, in our current situation, Torchwood ready to bring only the single most deadly race ever in existence into this world, because they were too stupid and blind to really think this through. So my question to you, Pete Tyler, is if this was your Torchwood, and this happened to you, what would you do?"

The Doctor whipped around, ancient hard eyes boring into Pete, and in that moment he remember that the Doctor wasn't a human man at all. "I'd not endanger my world, my people, for this, no matter what it was. We already made that mistake once. I can't do that again."

Whether it was the answer the Doctor wanted to hear or not, he couldn't tell. The man stood tall, cocked his dark head at Pete, and nodded. "Right. Well, I have a plan to get us out of this. But I need in that factory. Pete, you stay with Jackie, keep her safe. And if you need...you know what to do."

"To do what," Jackie squawked as the Doctor threw open the doors, ignoring her. Pete merely shrugged and smiled, tugging Jackie on with him. He knew what the Doctor meant. If shit was to hit the fan, he wanted Pete to get Jackie out to his world.

"What's going on?" Jackie spun on him, annoyance clear in her tetchy tone, as Rose and Mickey sidled up to the open door, both eyeing the Doctor and whatever it was he was up to.

"Nothing, Jacks. Doctor wants to make sure you're safe."

"It's him that got me into this, now how's he going to get me…"

But before she could even finish her demand, the Doctor was back through, Rose slamming the door behind him. Wildly, he spun around, panting as he shoved a hand into his jacket pocket.

"Full on battle in there, but never mind. I think these will do the trick."

Pete never had a chance to ask how a pair of 3D specs from back in the day would do the trick for anything. Before he could, the Doctor was diving back into the fray, Rose protesting in a tone much the same as her mother used a moment before, standing at the door with confusion and worry. Beside him, Pete could feel Jackie tugging at his hand as she called to her daughter in a stage whisper. "Rose, get out of there!"

Rose only turned to glare back at her and wave her off. Before Jackie got any bright ideas, Pete tightened his fingers around hers. "Oh, no you don't. Rose is fine."

"But they are shooting and she's standing there, and…"

"She knows what she's doing. Unlike you." He hated to say it, as he wasn't entirely certain Rose did know what she was doing, but he at least he knew Jackie didn't. It earned a mutinous glare from her, but he remained firm in his resolve, holding her hand tight. "Get mad all you want, but I'm not letting you get killed."

A retort was quickly brewing on Jackie's lips, but it fell silent as out of the doors the Doctor returned, running full tilt and shouting. "We've got to see what it's doing! We've got to go back up!" They all stared at him blankly as he drug them along. "Come on, all of you, top floor!"

Jackie dug her heels in, protesting wildly at the Doctor. "That's forty-five floors up! Believe me, I've done them all!"

Doors near them opened and blessedly Jake Simmonds head popped out, regarding them all matter-of-factly. "We could always take the lift."

They all stopped, blinking at him in mild shock. Jake only managed to smirk, tapping his earpiece and nodding at Pete. "Could hear you all squawking. Better hurry up, then."

Without another word, they all piled on, the Doctor herding them in as behind them, the double doors burst open.

"Quickly," he hummed, slamming a forefinger against a button as the doors slid shut, and they began zooming to the top. Jackie watched it all with wide eyes, fearful and confused. So unlike Rose, who looked to the Doctor as if he knew what he was doing. Pete certainly hoped he did. Because as things stood at the moment, he wasn't so sure.

The doors opened to the topmost floor again, everyone spilling out and rushing to the window, just like the one in Pete's Torchwood. It had been little more than an hour since he stood at it with the Doctor, convincing him to help them. His London was peaceful calm, people going about their business. This one was madness. Below them on the streets Cybermen streamed toward the building, there silver, blank faces horrifyingly stoic as they made their way towards it, all the while, a blanket of Daleks flew through the London skies. Already, they could see fires and explosions in the distance as hapless people scattered from the warfare threatening to break out around them. Pete felt something snap. Perhaps it was the terrible memories of so long ago, perhaps it was the cold, pragmatic realization that this wasn't his world and really wasn't his problem. He turned, his jaw firm with resolve as he pushed away from the window, back to the white room with its strange levers. "I'm sorry, but you've had it."

Jackie followed, clearly confused as to what he meant as he snagged the extra jumper, the one he'd given the Doctor. "This world's going to crash and burn. There's nothing we can do. We're going home."

Home...his home. Not this world where madness reigned and he didn't exist. And this time...this time Jackie Tyler got to live.

"Jacks, take this." He tossed the yellow jumper at her.

Even as she caught it, she glared at him, glancing wildly at the scene outside. "But they're destroying the city!"

He sighed. She never had been able to take a simple order, had she? "I'd forgotten you could argue." Shaking his head, he couldn't help the small smile as he moved to place the device around her neck himself, securing it there.

"It's not just London, it's the whole world," he said simply. Gently, he lifted his hands to her face, turning it from the death and destruction to look at him. "But there's another world, just waiting for you, Jacks. And it's safe. As long as the Doctor closes the breech."

Jackie Tyler, who never left her little flat in the estate, who never once dared to dream there could be anything bigger or better. He was asking her to take his hand and follow him to his world. It was mad. He knew it was. But he really didn't care.

"Doctor," he called as she watched him, indecision in her bright, blue eyes. The Doctor turned from the window, the strange, red and blue 3D specs on his face again, a grin from ear to ear splitting his face.

"Oh, I'm ready. I've got the equipment right here. Thank you, Torchwood." He crowed, spinning madly to a computer.

"Mad git," Jackie whispered, as Pete turned, smiling down at her and her dubious frown. "Wonder we aren't all dead yet."

"He's mad, but he's all we got," Pete replied, dropping his hands as he watched her uncertainly. "Will you do it, Jacks?"

She swallowed hard, wrapping arms around her middle. "Pete...I can't, this is my home."

"The other world's just like it. Better even."

She didn't appear so sure.

"Rose is here." Her gaze flickered to her daughter as she chatted with the Doctor. "She's all I got, Pete. I can't just walk away from my daughter."

His heart lurched as he wanted to tell her that she could have more than just Rose. She could have him. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. Around them, the ghostly sound of a computer called out it was rebooting, as the Doctor pressed his 3D specs onto Rose's face. Immediately the girl began to turn her head this way and that as the Doctor waved about.

"I've been through it. Do you see? Void stuff!"

A grin spread over Rose's face. "Like, um...background radiation."

"That's it!" The Doctor beamed. "Look at the others."

Rose stared at all of them now, glancing from Mickey and Jake to Pete and Jackie. It was her mother the Doctor pointed to, and both Pete and Jackie glanced down at her track suit involuntarily. "The only one who hasn't been through the void - your mother. First time she's look normal in her life."

" _Oi,_ " Jackie bellowed, as Mickey snickered. Even Pete smiled as she glared at the alien.

The Doctor ignored her as he dashed into the white room, Rose close behind. "The Daleks lived inside the Void. They're bristling with it. Cybermen...all of them. I just opened the Void end of the verse. The Void stuff gets sucked back inside."

"Pulling them all in," Rose grinned, triumphant. What the Void was, Pete couldn't understand. Thankfully it was Mickey who asked the question.

"Sorry, what's the Void?"

"The dead space," The Doctor replied, suddenly very serious, a hint of something terrified flickering across his thin face. "Some people call it hell."

Pete felt a shiver run from neck to spine. He'd always heard of hell as a place of fire and damnation. That's not what dead space sounded like. He glanced to Mickey who already was looping a jumper around his neck.

"So you are sending the Daleks and Cybermen to hell?" A cockey grin broke on Mickey's face as he nudged Jake. "Man, I told you he was good."

"But it's like you said," Rose piped up behind the 3D specs. "We've all got Void stuff. Me too! 'Cause we went to the parallel world. We're all contaminated. We'll get pulled in."

The Doctor grew very still. His dark eyes flickered, just once, to Pete, and he knew exactly what the insane alien was up to. Quietly, he squeezed Jackie's hand, even as she looked puzzled between him and the Doctor, clearly not getting it.

"That's why you've got to go," he replied simply. Around them, the ghostly computer droned in the ringing silence that followed.

Rose's cinnamon eyes were wide as she stared at the Doctor.

"Back to Pete's world," the Doctor continued before pausing, a flicker of amusement as he pointed his direction. "Hey, we should call it that! 'Pete's World'! I'm opening the Void, but only this side. You'll be safe on that side."

It was so matter-of-fact, so logical. And, if it was true and this all worked, it was bloody brilliant. Something only the Doctor could think of.

"And then you close it? For good?" Pete couldn't understand much of it, but all he needed to know was that this would stop it all, that this would finally bring their long nightmare to an end.

"The breach itself is soaked in Void stuff. In the end it will close itself. And that's it. Kaput!"

Something finally roused in Rose, as it occurred to her what this would really mean. "But you stay on this side?"

Mickey too became alarmed as the full weight of it became apparent. "But you'll get pulled in."

For a long moment the Doctor met Rose's increasingly agitated gaze, before spinning to grab giant handles that Pete had seen him grab from the warehouse below. "That's why I got these! I'll just have to hold on tight! I've been doing it all my life!"

His joke fell flat as Rose simply stared at him, looking as if he'd slapped her. "I'm supposed to go?"

The manic energy in the Doctor faded. Pained sadness filled his bottomless eyes as he looked at the hurt and confused young woman. "Yeah."

"To another world? And then it gets sealed off?" There was a threat of hysterics just on the edge of Rose's tone. Beside him, Pete could feel Jackie tense at the sound.

"Yeah," the Doctor nearly whispered.

They all stood then, staring, not sure what to say. Pete glanced to Jackie, who had eyes only for Rose. Mickey and Jake both looked to him. And the other two...Rose merely watched the Doctor, her mutinous expression torn between aching and angry. And the Doctor looked as if he would rather be anywhere other than there. Silently he turned to one of the computers, busying himself with whatever was on there.

"Forever," Rose finally muttered, laughing bitterly at the world. "That's not going to happen?"

Whatever that statement was supposed to mean, they had no time to hear the Doctor's response. Outside, a crash rumbled, shaking the building as Pete finally remembered that technically it was him, not the Doctor, who was in charge of this mission. "We haven't got time to argue. The plans works. We go in."

He turned pointedly to the woman who might have been his daughter. "You too. All of us."

Rose reacted much as he would have expected, being Jackie's daughter. "No! I'm not leaving him!"

No surprisingly, the moment those words left her lips, Jackie finally woke from her stupor, digging her heels in just as firmly. "I'm not going without her!"

Pete resisted the urge to swear, loudly, and chose instead to pin them both with his best, Torchwood director glare. "Oh my God! We're going!"

He should have know that whatever world she was from, Jackie Tyler was not going to give into him without an argument. Blue eyes blazed up at him, irritation flaring. "I've had twenty years without you, so button it! I'm not leaving her."

That hurt more than Pete wanted to admit. In the heat of the moment, he'd not considered how she'd take it. Twenty years without him and she'd done just fine.

But it was Rose who came in to save the day. She turned her mother around to face he. "You've got to go," she told her firmly.

Rose was clearly not going to be much more successful than Pete had been. Jackie's chin jutted as she stared at her daughter as if she'd asked for an extra pudding at dinner. "Well, that's tough!"

"Mum," Rose protested as Jackie's voice rose over the faint voice of the computer's warning. She heaved a great sigh, meeting her mother's anger with a determined look, voice trembling with tears. "I've had a life with you for nineteen years! But then I met the Doctor and all the things I've seen him do for me. For you! For all of us! For the whole stupid planet and every planet out there. He does it alone, Mum!"

Just over Rose's shoulder, Pete could see the Doctor watching. His great, dark eyes were so broken, filled with hurt and loss, as he watched this girl speaking about him. Even so, he fumbled in his coat pocket, the impossible thing, pulling out of it a jumper on its chain. Pete watched it, knew what he was doing and wondered vaguely where he'd nicked the spare one and how he'd gotten it into that small space. He also knew exactly what the Doctor was going to do, and he prayed to God it worked.

"But not anymore," Rose continued with more confidence as she backed away slowly, her chin lifting. "'Cause now he's got me!"

In one, swift movement, the Doctor had the jumper around Rose's neck. Even as the girl turned around to protest, Pete snagged Jackie's jumper and pushed as he pressed his own.

The world faded away to nothing. When Pete blinked his eyes again, he stood in the same room, or nearly so, but this one was clearly not in the other world. The clutter and mess, the silence of it, all spoke to it being his own world, his own home.

And there stood Mickey, Jake, and Jackie...and with her Rose. And the young woman was furious. She took one, quick look around.

"Oh no you don't," she muttered to no one there. Clearly she was muttering it to the man who, till just a minute ago, was standing beside her. "He's not doing that to me again!"

Before either of them could stop her, Rose pressed her jumper and was gone.


	20. Chapter 20

The second Rose disappeared again, Pete realized he should have known that the Doctor's plan wouldn't work.

Without hesitation, he reached for the jumper around Jackie's neck and ripped it off before she could get any bright ideas herself. Just as he expected, she shrieked, panic on her face as she grabbed for it. "But I've got to go back!"

There was no way in this universe or any other he was letting that happen again. "The Doctor said every time we use one of these it damages the barrier between worlds. Now that's it!"

He hadn't meant it as coldly as it sounded. But he couldn't risk it, not for his world, not for the people he promised to protect. Not even for her.

"She's your daughter," Jackie insisted, angrily.

"She's your daughter, not mine," he spit back, regretting it almost as soon as the words came out. "Now that's an order!"

Jackie flinched in disbelief, raging brewing like an icy fire and only belatedly did Pete remember that Jackie wasn't one of his Torchwood operatives and had never, ever taken orders from anyone well. Still, he took Mickey's jumper before Jackie could convince the gullible, half-in-love pup to go back for Rose.

"Mickey, tell him!" Jackie grabbed at the boy's arm. He looked shamefaced between them, even as Jackie kept insisting he convince Pete.

"Jackie, he's right. Those things are dangerous and we don't know what another jump will do."

Jackie pulled back in dismay, disgust clearly writing itself across her face as she glared between them. "No pair of bollocks between the two of you?"

"Jacks," Pete sighed, stern anger giving way to placation. But she held up her hand, as if physically stopping any words he might have to say.

"Maybe she's not your daughter, yeah? But she is mine. And she is my Pete Tyler's. And if the world is being destroyed like you say, you are willing to let her die? Her Pete wouldn't do nothing like that. Not ever. He'd die before he'd let that happen. He did die." Great, fat tears welled on the edges of her black eyelashes as she turned cold fury on Mickey.

"And you! You who were her best friend from the time you were babies. You'd just let her die?"

She might as well have slapped Mickey for all the effect it had. "She's with the Doctor. He'd never left anything hurt her. It's what she wanted!"

"Yeah, and she says that now, but what's going to happen when she realizes that all her family is on one side of the universe and she's on the other? She's all alone with just the Doctor. You know his story, he don't age, Mickey, he just changes his face. And what's going to happen in fifty years? What's he going to do? Dump her somewhere and find another Rose?"

"It's her decision, Jackie," Pete tried to reason, knowing it was no good. He tried reaching for her, to at least hug her and make her understand.

"Get away from me." She simply ducked away from him, her voice hard. And Pete thought of all those nights, of all those arguments, all those years ago in their tiny flat in the estates. She'd done that then. And he knew now, even as he knew then, that there was a truth to Jackie's words, and she wouldn't be pleased, not till she got what she wanted. And right now, she wanted her daughter.

"What's one more crack in the universe?" Pete muttered, slipping the jumper he still had in hand around his neck. "Mickey, keep her here. Don't let her follow me. Tell Miles I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before either Mickey or Jackie could say anything, he jumped. That horrible squeezing sensation tightened his chest till he thought his ribs would crack. Even as he reappeared, however, he knew something was wrong. Something tugged at him even before he felt himself whole again. And when he popped into the separate reality, something came flying right at him.

Rose!

It was instinct, really, knowing that the girl flying through the air needed catching. It all played in slow motion, even if it took barely the space between one heartbeat and the next. He felt barely solid himself before Rose hit him full on, his arms wrapping around her protectively. He only had time to look up to the Doctor, holding on for dear life as his anguished screams rang in Pete's ears, the terror and the heartbreak clear in his dark eyes, before Pete pushed the button of the jumper. The winds of the Void never had a chance to snag him as he and Rose moved back through it, towards the mirror image of this room, of this world.

When they broke through again, she fell into a graceless heap at his feet.

"Rose!" Jackie gasped, still in the same place he'd left her, rushing forward to her daughter.

But Rose jumped up, grabbing for the button around Pete's neck. "I have to get back!"

"Rose!" He tried to stop her. But her fingers quashing on the button did nothing. Startled, they both stared at it, the plastic clicking uselessly in between her fingers. Rose squeezed again. Again, there was nothing.

"No," she murmured, yanking at it, jamming it with both hands, hysteria lacing the edges of her voice. "No, no, no…"

"Rose!" Jackie tried to pull her off, but Rose simply shook away from her mother's grasp. She stared wildly at the device, then Pete, before throwing herself away, and towards the wall that was the exact replica of the one in her world, the one where the opening to the Void had been. "No, no, no, I've got to get back!"

Her hands pounded on the wall, as if she hoped there would be a weakness that would break through and let her pass. But nothing moved, nothing gave.

"Take me back," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she cried against the wall. "Take me back!"

Pete stared at the device in hand, then back at Mickey and Jackie. Both looked at him helplessly as he tried again. Nothing worked.

"It's stopped working," he murmured, relieved, but also heartbroken for the girl crying against the wall. "He did it. He closed the breach."

They were all still alive.

"No," Rose cried, pressing her cheek against the wall, thick, black mascara tears smearing heedlessly against the white paint. Perhaps she hoped she could reach him that way, hear him, sense him. Maybe she did. Who knew? She was now on one side of the universal divide. The Doctor was on the other. She had chosen him over her mother, because, she said, he needed her. What she hadn't said, and what was only now too clear, was that she'd done that because she loved him. And Pete had a horrible feeling he had loved her too.

"Rose," Jackie murmured in that way only mother's had, going to her daughter's side as the girl immediately wrapped her arms around her waist and sobbed, horrible, wracking, heartbroken cries. The sort of sound that Pete remembered crying outside of Ricky's grandmother's apartment as he lay curled up on the dirty pavement, only to be found by Mickey hours later. He turned to the said boy, who watched Rose with pained sadness.

"I need to check in with Jake and Miles."

"Yeah," Mickey murmured, not even bothering to look at him. Pete clapped the boy on the shoulder, knowing he was leaving Rose and Jackie in capable hands for the moment, moving out of the scene regretfully. Rose's heartbroken cries echoed hollowly behind him as he left to the elevator, her cracked voice pleading for a way to get back.

He ignored the tightness in his throat and the film of tears that briefly blinded him.

The elevator doors opened on a command center buzzing. Miles already expecting him as he stepped off, shoving a tablet in front of his nose. "We have monitors looking for the hole. It's disappeared."

Pete stopped, swallowing hard, half in elation, half in trepidation. He thought of the mournful cries upstairs. "You're sure."

"Singh's calculations say so." Miles nodded to the scientist who was working feverishly in a corner of the command center. "The minute you popped back the last time, it closed. Sealed tight, as if it was never there."

Pete ignored the mental image of a zipper in the sky, the portal between worlds, sliding shut. "And our team?"

"Jake got everyone out. All present and accounted for. He's debriefing them now. And they came complete with those."

On black counter along the far wall, stacks of hard drives sat, piled on top of and beside it, some with wires and cables still trailing behind.

"All the hard drives and servers they could carry or swipe, a plethora of the knowledge of the other Torchwood. The alien races they knew of, the technology, what they were using it for. A century and a half's worth of archives of another universe, all at our fingertips."

Pete tried not to feel the twinge of guilt, as if they were stealing something. Honestly, from what he saw behind them in the other Torchwood, there weren't many left who would feel outraged at the loss. "Get me Jake's report as soon as possible. And then start Tech in on those things, yeah? Have them talk to Mickey if they need any help with the other world's technology."

Miles, ever efficient, noted it quickly, before turning a curious gaze at Pete. "The Cybermen. What happened to them on the other side?"

"Gone," Pete replied firmly. He wasn't certain, of course, but he assumed as much. "Sucked into the Void. Disappeared. Like as not they are all dead."

"There will be an outcry over this. People will be upset that their loved ones disappeared."

"Well, fat lot they could have done. Their loved ones died long ago, as far as I'm concerned." Pete couldn't bring himself to care in that moment. Not after everything he'd seen that day. Cybermen. Daleks, whatever they were. All were death and destruction. Their disappearance was a blessing. "We need to report everything to Harriet Jones when we get half a chance. If she gets wind of this and we haven't told her…"

"I'll make sure a redacted file gets to her people before the day is out."

"Right," Pete sighed, feeling suddenly very exhausted. And still, he had the situation upstairs to face. Of Jackie...and Rose. And they were now both trapped in this world. "I'll need you to do one last thing. I need your covert team to work on how to create some identities. Well, create at least one identity, possibly two."

"For?"

"Jackie and Rose Tyler."

Miles stopped his frantic typing on his tablet to stare at Pete over the top of his dark frames. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I heard you. I am just having trouble processing that you did something that monumentally mad."

"Don't start with me, Miles. Not today."

"What do you want me to say, sir?" There was no deference in the final word as he straightened, scowling. "You seriously brought the other Jackie Tyler here?"

"Yeah, I did, else she'd have been killed in there along with everyone else."

"Maybe that was her fate!"

"Well, now it's not, 'cause she's alive, and she's here, and now we will have to figure this out."

Arguing was useless now. Miles knew that just as well as Pete did. The breach was closed. Even if they'd wanted to, they couldn't send Jackie and Rose home. And God knew that Rose wanted to go home, back to her Doctor.

"Rose is upstairs now. She's pretty upset." Pete scrubbed at his face. "I want to give her some time. Her and the Doctor…" He shrugged. He couldn't explain it. He didn't even understand all of it. Thankfully, Miles grasped it, even if he hadn't met either the girl or the mysterious alien.

"I'll see if I can start working up some possibilities tonight. Till then, you have to keep the pair of them hidden, away from the tabs and media. If they catch wind of this before we're ready…"

"Yeah, I know." Pete understood the implications all too well. "Just do what you can, Miles. Give me the reports. I've got to go see to Jackie and her daughter."

Miles said nothing as he turned and made his way to the elevator, not back up to the white room, where Rose sat crying brokenly, but to his office. Even his assistant Amanda was gone as he let himself inside, stumbled to his desk, and fell into his leather chair, pulling out the Scotch. But he didn't pour any into the crystal tumbler. Instead, he stared out at London, at a completely different world than the one he had just left behind. And upstairs, two women sat, out of their universe and everything they had ever known. Now both his responsibility. And one had the misfortune of looking and acting nearly exactly like his dead wife.

"Bloody hell," he sighed, scrubbing his face and burying his head in his hands.


	21. Chapter 21

When Pete had enough courage to go back up to the white room at the top of the building, he found Rose and Jackie curled on the floor, the girl asleep with her head on her mother's lap. Jackie looked hardly better, her own face puffy as she blinked up at Pete, stroking her fingers through her daughter's stringy hair. 

"She wanted us to wait five and a half hours," Jackie whispered sadly, not wanting to wake the clearly distraught girl.

"Reinette," Mickey muttered, hunched on a box nearby. Pete turned to him, curiously. "Long mad story, but he left us on a space station. We were waiting five-and-a-half hours. Sort of the running joke between them, wait five-and-a-half hours."

Pete glanced at his wristwatch, surprised that it was closer to six hours. His head felt heavy, full of everything with the day. "Let me get you lot to food and a bed. I have a driver waiting downstairs."

He'd half expected Jackie to protest. Instead, she merely nodded gratefully, looking at Mickey. "We'll need to get her down there. She's like as not out for the count. If you can get her?"

"Right." Without protest, Mickey rose stiffly, moving to gently scoop up the younger woman in his arms. Rose didn't even stir as she lay limp, her blonde hair spilling over his leather sleeve, her swollen cheek against his chest. Pete sighed heavily as he reached a hand to help Jackie up.

"Cried for hours, she did," Jackie murmured, heartbreak in her voice as she watched Mickey move ahead with her daughter. "I haven't seen her do that since she was a kid."

Wearily, the party made their way to the elevator and down to the parking structure below. The large, black SUV waiting for them was manned by one of Pete's regular drivers, but if the man was shocked to see a woman looking exactly like Pete's dead wife, he didn't let on. He quietly and efficiently helped Mickey load Rose gently into the back seat, as Jackie crawled in beside her daughter and Mickey beside Jackie. Pete took the front seat by the driver, glancing back to the trio behind him. Mickey met his gaze with a woebegone expression, completely at a loss as to what to do. Jackie had eyes only for her daughter.

The ride continued in silence, as the driver wisely chose the private, back entrance to Pete's building, far away from the prying eyes of paparazzi and an open security presence. He went ahead, using his private passcode to open the back doors, allowing Mickey with Rose inside, Jackie close behind. With easy familiarity, Mickey navigated the way to the elevator that led to Pete's private penthouse at the top floor. The lights automatically came on as they entered and Pete pointed Mickey towards the spare rooms down the hallway. 

Jackie stepped in quietly, blue eyes wide and smeared with ruined makeup. "This your place then?"

"Yeah," he nodded, glancing around his posh, if plain, apartment, shoving his hands self-consciously into his pockets. "It's where I've been living, at least, since my wife died."

His wife. That brought Jackie around, the stunned fog she'd been in clearing as she nodded, a more critical eye taking in the bland, if expensive furniture and the plain, generic artwork. "Guess you don't spend a ton of time here, then?"

"Not so much," he admitted, impressed she sussed that much out. "Place to sleep, keep up appearances. It's nice, yeah, but not home."

She only nodded mutely, comfortable trainers squeaking on the marble floor as she wandered aimlessly, looking about. "It looks too nice to touch anything."

"You haven't seen my room," he laughed, then flushed as he realized what that implied. 

If Jackie caught on, she didn't show it, wrapping her arms around herself. "I should go check on Rose, yeah?"

"Right. She's just down the hall." He pointed in the direction Mickey had gone. With a tight smile, she followed, her shoulders hunched in on herself as her feet scuffed the floor the entire way down. Pete watched her go, holding his breath. When he heard soft voices he released it, wandering into the kitchen. The cold remains of that mornings coffee were in the maker and he flipped on the burner underneath to warm them as he wandered to the freezer to contemplate food. He couldn't cook to save his life, had never managed more than cheese toast, and that was hit or miss half the time. After he'd moved out on his wife, he'd taken to hiring one of those fancy, personal chefs that all his Jackie's friends raved about and had them come in every few weeks to fill his freezer full of things that he could heat up with minimal trouble. He stared at the bags, figuring pasta was simple enough.

Mickey wandered in just as he finished reading through the heating instructions, looking as grim as Pete had ever seen the normally ebullient young man. "She woke up a bit when I set her down, but I think she's asleep again. May need to call someone though."

"Let her rest. We'll see how she is in the morning." Pete remembered all too well the place where Rose was at. "Jackie still in there?"

"Yeah," he murmured, eyes glazed as he scrubbed at his face. It had been a long day for him, for all of them. "Are we really stuck on this side, then?"

Stuck? Mickey had never put it like that before. Had he hoped to return this time around, to stay home? Maybe all the trips back to his world had made him long for something he hadn't found in this one. "Yeah, 'fraid so, as least as far as Dr. Singh can tell. We are still running tests."

"And that's it? No more Cybermen?"

"Looks like it," Pete replied, setting down the package and leaning against the black, granite top. "You worried about what you're going to do now?"

"Yeah," Mickey shrugged, the leather of his jacket creaking with the action. "I mean...well, I guess Rose is here now, but I don't know. It's what I've been doing for years, this mission. Weird to have it end."

"Torchwood has plenty to do and plenty more you could be doing, you know." Pete glanced at the frozen meal. "We can talk about it tomorrow. You hungry? Was going to whip up some pasta thing. I think it's got seafood and a white sauce?"

That made Mickey snort somewhat. "Yeah, I'll pass. Just want to grab a pint and crawl into bed."

"You're welcome to stay. Rose might appreciate it."

Mickey's good humor faded somewhat. "Maybe? I don't know. Right now, I just...I think it would be good if I gave her some space, yeah."

Pete wasn't as sure that was a good idea, but held his tongue. "Come check on her tomorrow, then. Give her a friendly face to look at."

"Right," Mickey nodded, shoving hands into his jeans pockets. "I'll see myself out. Tomorrow, then?"

"See you then," Pete replied, watching Mickey go, before turning back to the project at hand.

By the time Jackie made her appearance he'd heated up one packet and was working on the second. Meanwhile, he was rummaging through his stainless steel fridge, looking for something that vaguely resembled a leafy, green product. So far he'd come up with a withered bunch of dried leaves and a package of slime that reminded him of one of the alien research projects he'd witnessed the week before. He really needed to pay better attention to the food the chef put in there.

"Something smells good," he heard her call as he spun around, plastic bag full of brown, wet, sludge still in hand. Her eyes flickered to it as Pete cleared his throat, and tossed it in the trash bin before she was completely and thoroughly disgusted.

"Do you like pasta," he evaded, nodding to the microwave. "Heating up some...linguini is it? With seafood? Shrimp and clams I think. Maybe oysters?"

He cleared his throat nervously and tried to look very busy with the batch already warmed up, stirring it about in the bowl.

"Always were rubbish with cooking, weren't you?" She laughed softly as she took the bowl out of his hands before he made a right mess with it. "Got forks and things?"

"Yeah, in that drawer." He pointed to the one to the right of the sink. "If you like, we can eat in the dining room. Never eat in there, normally. Might be...nice."

"Sure," she smiled, gathering cutlery enough for them both.

"And something to drink. I am warming coffee, if you'd like."

"Maybe something stronger," she suggested, her head cocked in that way she always had, inviting but not quite sure she'd be accepted. She...rather his Jackie did the same thing this Jackie did. Bloody hell, this was getting confusing, fast.

"Stronger...sure!" He glanced towards the wine rack in the corner and the liquor cabinet beside it. "Wine, scotch, whiskey?"

"You choose," she replied, taking her bowl of pasta and moving towards the dining area. She carefully picked a seat across from the kitchen, watching him as he pulled out his best red, one of his wife's favorites, and poured two glasses. By then, his own pasta was finished and he managed both it and the two glasses as he settled across from Jackie with a nervous smile.

"Here you go, French Cabernet Sauvignon, a good year. Thought you'd might like it."

"French?" Eagerly she snagged the glass, gulping it as if it were a cocktail rather than a fine wine. Her nose wrinkled somewhat as she tried to hide a cough. "It's...good?" She only managed that weakly, her voice cracking as she did.

"You aren't supposed to guzzle it. You sip it." He was trying not to laugh at her, but he couldn't help it, especially not at her wounded indignation.

"I know that, just it's a bit nicer than what I'm used to is all." She sniffed, now sipping the wine, but still not quite managing to hide her dislike. "Maybe it's an acquired taste, like coffee?"

"Maybe," he conceded, sipping at the wine, letting it roll around his tongue, before swallowing it hard. "You know, it is kind of rubbish, isn't it?"

That seemed to break the ice between them, as Jackie snickered into her glass. "It's the worst, like vinegar in my mouth!"

"Now that you mention it, yeah, very much like vinegar." He took another sip and grimaced it down. "Why the bloody hell did I buy this stuff?"

"Because it's French and posh and someone told you to?"

"Pretty much," he admitted, pushing the glass away. "How about a pint instead? I have a couple of lagers."

"That I will take."

The glasses of fine and expensive cabernet where whisked away and lager put in their place, as they each tucked into their meal, companionably silent as they tiredly ate. For her part, Jackie seemed to enjoy whatever it was that he'd warmed up, spearing a scallop appreciatively.

"Nice food. Someone make it for you?"

"Got a personal chef that comes in a few times a month, checks that I'm not starving."

"Convenient!" She nodded, glancing at the kitchen. "It's nice in there. Always wanted a kitchen like that, all shiny appliances and everything. Always had my second hand ones, and Mickey had to fix that for me more often than not. Surprised they lasted as long as they did."

"You like to cook?" That surprised him. His Jackie had been rubbish at it, hence why he'd paid for personal lessons for her birthday.

"Like? Well I do it. I don't know, Rose never starved. My shepherds pie is all right, I guess." She fiddled nervously with her fork and he could guess that this Jackie was likely just as much a danger as the other in the kitchen. "But I make the best tea on the planet. Saved the Doctor's life it did. Something about tannins and free radicals? I never can make out what he's going on about half the time."

Grief suddenly paused her as she stared at Pete with wide, blue eyes. "He won't be back, will he?"

Pete chewed slowly on the pasta, regarding her evenly. "I don't know. Maybe. He's the Doctor and frankly the only creature I know of capable of doing it. But would he? He said that the jumping was creating the cracks in the universe, endangering all of us. Maybe he could figure out a way, but maybe he won't because it's too dangerous."

"Which means we are stuck here? Rose and me?"

"Yeah," Pete replied simply. He watched her carefully. His wife would have thrown a fit by this point, started screaming, yelling at someone, possibly throwing things. But this one, she merely set down her fork, fingers moving to her lager, but not picking it up. She simply stared into the golden liquid, tears shining in her eyes.

"It was an accident that I was even there at Torchwood with them. I don't think I was meant to be. It just happened so fast, and then...yeah." She sighed, sniffing as she did so. "Bev won't know where I'm at. Neither will Mo! You think they will declare me missing?"

"Maybe dead," Pete replied, pushing aside his bowl. "I'm sorry, you know. I didn't give you much of a choice, did I?"

"S'alright," she waved him off, finally picking up her glass to sip at its content. "You were just trying to keep me safe. I get it."

Despite her reassurance, he could see the hurt and worry she swallowed along with the golden liquid. The Jackie Tyler he knew was never one for mad adventures, at least not unless a zeppelin and a posh hotel were involved. Mickey had said something similar about this Jackie. She'd never left the estate, never tried or dared to do anything else. And now, there she was, stuck in a strange world that was like her own, but so very different. For starters, she was sitting in this luxury flat, having dinner with a man who looked very much like her long dead husband.

"I just...couldn't do it, you know." He blurted the words faster than they came to mind, and it shocked him how easily his confession tumbled out. He cleared his throat, studying the pink shrimp and gray clams in his pasta. "I couldn't just walk away from a world going to shit on that side and leave you there to...you know, maybe die again."

Jackie stilled across the table from him. Pete felt his cheeks burn.

"You see, my wife...my Jackie, she died due to Cybermen. I was trying to save her, and I couldn't. She got turned into one, and…yeah." He breathed a sigh as he stirred the rest of the noodles and sauce in its bowl, suddenly no longer particularly hungry. "I just couldn't let it happen again is all."

For long moments, neither of them said anything.

When Pete dared to look up again, Jackie was watching him with a soppy smile. "You are such a git, you know."

"How am I a git?"

"A romantic one, yeah, but a git all the same."

Pete was still trying to work how in any of that confession he could possibly be accused of being a git, but Jackie rose, gathering her used dishes. "You done with that?"

"Yeah," he murmured, startled as she gathered up bowls and cutlery. He didn't think he'd seen his wife do that in close to twenty years.

"It was sweet of you, Pete, but you should have been worrying about yourself and your mission," Jackie chastised him as she made her way into the kitchen. He trailed behind.

"And what? Leave you to die there, turned into a Cyberman, or a Dalek, or whatever else was going on there?"

"I was fine," she sniffed, moving towards his sink, eyeing the dishwasher critically. "This is much fancier than what we had. Do you need a license to run it?"

"No, it's not that hard and you are avoiding the point," Pete snapped. But Jackie ignored him, as she began scraping dishes and rinsing things, placing them in the admittedly state-of-the-art dishwasher as if she owned the place.

"You have any soap for this?"

"Under the sink," he pointed, as she dutifully turned and found it in a rack on the door of the cabinet. "If I hadn't found you on the stairwell, you'd have been dead."

"Yeah, but you didn't need to take me with you."

"And what, leave you to a world torn apart by those things? Not bloody likely!"

"The Doctor would have sorted it out, I'm sure. Could have done by now I suppose." She squeezed soap into the appropriate spot, closed the door of the dishwasher, and then trailed her acrylic nails across the touchscreen, frowning at its complexity. "What? You don't have buttons on it?"

"Touch, just like tablets."

"Like what?"

Pete sighed, remembering Jackie's world wasn't quite as advanced as his. Gently pushing her aside, he punched the screen and brought up the appropriate cycle. A nearly silent whir began as the machine came to life. Jackie stared at it, clearly impressed.

"You certainly live posh, having something like that."

Trust Jackie Tyler to be stuck in the middle of a strange world, without a penny to her name and find something fancy and high end far more interesting at the moment. "Jackie…"

"Look, I know what you were doing." She flapped her hands at him before crossing herself to stare at the fancy machine quietly. "I know that you were trying to help. Maybe you were trying to redeem yourself because of your last wife, I don't know. I just know right now I don't know where I am. I don't know what I'm doing. And I got a daughter who just lost her entire world. And that...that I know something about."

Tears pooled in her blue eyes as she dashed at them hard. "Maybe I should go check on Rose, yeah? Make sure she's alright? We can talk some more tomorrow."

Without another word she was out of the kitchen, sparing Pete no further glance. He watched her go, before glancing back at his spotless kitchen, cleaned by Jackie.

"Well, at least that's different," he sighed, slumping against the granite counter top.


	22. Chapter 22

Jackie found him in his study the next morning, a mug in her hand.

"Coffee?" She smiled, handing him a large mug filled with coffee far fresher than the kind he'd reheated the night before. He smiled as he took it, despite himself.

"Thank you. You didn't have to."

"No bother." She waved a hand at him, settling nervously in one of overstuffed, leather chairs. Pete's study was a mix of comfortable manliness and high tech efficiency, leather seats beside flat screened monitors flashing the latest news and framed photographs of himself and major world leaders. He caught Jackie eyeing one on the left wall of him and Harriet Jones at a dinner function together. "Is that the prime minister? Harriet Jones?"

"President." He corrected her lightly, smiling at her confusion. "We don't have a queen on this side, so she's the President of the Republic of Great Britain. But that's her, yeah. Nice woman, if a bit batty."

"Same in our world. She knew Rose and the Doctor. Seemed alright." She tugged at her track suit jacket, the same one she'd worn the day before. It reminded him she'd come with just the clothes on her back. "So, you haven't got a queen? No king, neither?"

"Nope. Got rid of those when the old queen, Victoria, stepped down. Mysterious illness, passed on to her children. Turns out it was an alien virus that mutated the carrier into a werewolf, but the public didn't know that. All they knew was that the queen heroically chose to step down in the face of the coming crises and declared Great Britain a republic." It was the same story that all British school children learned, the passing of the old monarchy into republican democracy.

Jackie looked as if he might as well have told her the moon was made of cheese. "And, so what, there isn't any Prince Charles or Lady Di?"

Not sure who they were, Pete shook his head. "The old aristocrats are still around, still have their titles, but they don't mean much. Most are just honorary anyway, dukes whose families go back for centuries."

"Imagine that," Jackie muttered, clearly having trouble doing just that. "Well, one less thing to gossip on, I suppose. Pity, that young prince, WIlliam, was growing up to be a handsome boy. Would have liked to see who he settles down with."

Losing the thread of conversation quickly, Pete cleared his throat. "How's Rose?"

Jackie's musings melted into a sad frown of worry as her gaze turned vaguely to where Rose must still be sleeping. "Woke a bit, but then cried some more. Still is asleep. I haven't seen her like this, not even when...well, last time she'd had her heart broken." She glowered darkly at the top of Pete's dark, oak desk.

Pete had suspected as much. Jackie's words only confirmed something he'd long wondered about the relationship between the strange alien and the girl who could be his daughter. "So, Rose and the Doctor, they were…"

"Oh, no, not like that!" Jackie waved her hands in denial, but paused, shrugging. "Okay, maybe a bit. I don't think they ever did nothing, at least Rose kept denying that they did, and you know, you would think she'd be honest if she'd actually shagged an alien about what it was like."

Pete couldn't decide if he was more horrified at the idea of the daughter he'd never had sleeping with anyone or that Jackie would be curious about it. "I didn't mean if they were sleeping...together, Jacks, I meant, were they a couple, in love."

"Oh, that!" Jackie's face flushed bright underneath the smeared makeup "I know Rose was. I know my daughter and I knew what she's like when she's head over heels. As for the Doctor…"

She paused, sighing, staring at the picture of Harriet Jones for long moments. "You know, once, there was this mad incident. Aliens invading Downing Street, big, fat ones who wore people suits. All sorts of insanity. The Doctor was there, in his old face, not the face you met. He'd just brought Rose home after a year away and I thought she was dead, but she had been out gallivanting across the universe and all of time with him. And no sooner did she turn up on my doorstep again then they were running off to stop these aliens. That's where they met Harriet Jones. And they go and lock themselves up in some office somewhere to figure it all out, the Doctor, Rose, and Harriet, and I call her on her cell. And they are trying to plan how to stop the aliens with bombs being redirected at Downing Street and all other madness. And all I could think was that it was my baby girl in there. My Rose. She was all I had left after you….I mean my Pete….died."

She frowned down at her twisted fingers in her lap. "I remember crying, telling him that he couldn't do that, that he had to promise me that Rose would be safe. And I remember him coming up with a way to stop them, one that could kill them all, including himself, Harriet and Rose. And he stopped...for half a minute, he stopped. And he almost...almost didn't go through with it. The entire world hanging in the balance, all those lives, and for for one moment he seriously thought about letting them all hang and save Rose."

She smiled, blinking up at Pete with eyes shining wetly. "You know, when before he changed his face, something happened. Something with a space station in the future and those Daleks, and everyone dying. And Rose, she wanted to stay and fight with him, just like usual. And he sent her back. She cried and cried, finally made me help her get back to him. But you know what, he sent her back to me. He'd promised, you know, to always send her back to me, no matter what. And that's why he sent here with us here. He always promised me. And I have to believe he did it because he loved her. He loved her more than anything. I don't know much about him, no one does. Rose says he's old, hundreds of years old, and that all his people are gone. He's all alone. And maybe Rose gave him something to hope for. But I know that he loved her enough to give her up, to know she was alive somewhere. And I don't know for sure if you would call that romance, but it must stand for something, right?"

Pete couldn't follow half of the story as she told it, but one thing was clear. Rose had meant a lot to the Doctor, and he to her, and that upstairs right now was a very, very heartbroken young woman. He could only imagine what the Doctor was like at this very moment.

"You think he's okay, over there?" Jackie sounded so very sad in that moment. Pete could only shake his head.

"I don't know," he admitted, softly. "You think she will be okay?"

"Rose? I hope so. She's my daughter and I survived your loss." She wiped at her eyes to meet his frankly. "And you survived without me. She may not be your daughter direct, but she's still Pete Tyler's girl. And we are made of stronger stuff."

That they were. The thought made him smile, despite his stinging eyes. "My wife...my Jackie. She and I...we never had kids. Never got around to it. She said she never wanted any. Soon, it got to be too late." He wondered, briefly, if things would have been better between he and his Jackie if had been blessed with a Rose, an intrepid, stubborn, brave young woman who could bring them together.

To his surprise, Jackie laughed lightly, humming as if reminiscing. "I remember being the same way with my Pete."

"Really?" That shocked him. He'd assumed with the existence of Rose that this Jackie had been all for kids.

"Oh, yeah! When I was younger, thought kids were a bother. Screaming, snotting, soiling nappies, couldn't pay me to have one of the little buggers." She laughed airily as Pete recalled all too well those very words coming out of his Jackie's mouth. "And then, of course, I'd had more than a few friends get knocked up. Saw what they turned into. Gaining weight, wearing pajamas all the time, never having time to get dressed, let alone go out. I was horrified."

That all sounded eerily familiar to him. "My Jackie said the same things. What changed?"

"I got pregnant," she replied with a smile. "We weren't supposed to. We didn't have two pence to rub together, let alone a quid to survive on, and there we were, expecting a baby. When I realized what was going on, I cried and cried the entire day. And you kept telling me it would work out. It always did. And all I could think was that we would need to feed the baby, and clothe her, and put a roof over her head, and we couldn't do that for ourselves. But you seemed to think it would all work out. You were the one who talked me out of giving her up."

Her last words struck him cold. "You didn't want her?"

"Not because I didn't want her, because we couldn't care for her." Jackie flushed uncomfortably, fingers twisting so tightly her knuckles were white. "Rose doesn't know this, and you can't tell her, but I did for half a moment want to find a family to take her in. Maybe a cousin or something. Someone who had their lives more together than we did. And you stood your ground. And you were right. I was hysterical, you made me see reason, and we kept her."

Pete wanted to be bothered by her insistence on "you" rather than "he" and to remind her that it was another Pete Tyler who had had these conversations with her. But in all honesty, if it had been him rather than Rose's father he'd have said the same thing. "And you never regretted it?"

"Not even for a minute," she stated firmly, chin jutting hard. "Especially after…everything that happened."

He knew she was talking about her Pete's death not long after.

"It's so strange," he sighed, scrubbing his face as he tried to wrap his head around the idea that in one world he had fathered a daughter, in another he'd not. "I wonder what was different. I mean, my Jackie and I, we never...at least, she never told me about a time when she might even have suspected."

"I don't know," she replied, thoughtful. "I know Rose was born April and I always suspected that we made her that one night when…"

She stopped, staring at Pete, her face now the color of a beet. Pete frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," she murmured, looking away and decidedly embarrassed.

"No, what?"

"It's nothing." She shook her head. Even her neck was turning pink, and she was clearly mortified.

"When, what?" Now he was just curious, wanting to know what she and his counterpart had been up to.

"You likely didn't even have that time with your wife in this world," she shot back, burying her face into her hands. "There was...me and Pete, we had this fight, okay. My Pete. I don't even remember what it was about, shoes on the floor, perfume from another woman on his shirt, I don't recall. I just remember screaming at him, and he screamed back, and he stormed out. And I began crying on the couch."

"I'd called you a word that rhymes with 'punt', didn't I?" Oh, he remembered that argument all right. He remembered it all to well. Pete's heart began to race as he swallowed hard. His head spun as moments came back to him, little shifts, and in a blink of an eye, he saw the divergence of his life, clear as day. It was as if he had been granted the ability to see his experiences in all of their glory and saw the one point when he'd reached the road not taken. "I'd called you that and you threw a shoe at me."

"Yeah," Jackie breathed, uncovering her face with a startled expression. "I'd screamed at you I wanted a divorce."

"And I said if you thought you could do better by yourself, then you were more than welcome to try. And I grabbed my jacket and left."

"And I screamed you could go to your whore of a girlfriend. And then I curled up on the couch crying." Jackie was nearly smiling at the memory. "You remember?"

"Happened in my world, too," he replied, breathless with the weight of what he just realized. "Tell me, Jacks. In your world, when did I come back?"

She laughed, her face pinking up again. "Oh, about an hour or so later, enough to have a cig and a walk around the block, clear the head. Then you came back, all contrite, and then we...well…" She stopped, clearing her throat and looking anywhere but at Pete. "You know...there on the couch, we…"

"Yeah." He cut her off mercifully as she became suddenly very interested in the fuzz on her track suit. "Yeah, in my world, that didn't happen."

"It didn't?" That caught her attention. She looked disappointed. "Pity. It was amazing!"

Pete tried to hold back the sliver of manly pride and gloating grin that threatened. He wanted to ask how good it was, but refrained as he recalled the events in his world. "I stormed out, yeah. And I walked around the block. And when I was ready to come back, that's when a woman, Yvonne Hartman, stopped me."

Jackie knew that name well enough. "That woman that tried to kill me?"

"Different world, Jackie, not the same woman."

"Did she like me any better in this?"

That part hadn't changed across worlds. "Honestly, no. But it was different here. She recruited me to work for Torchwood that night. Offered to help me get the rights to Vitex and make it my own. In exchange, I'd become a spy for Torchwood, their mole in the corporate world. I'd make sure that their technologies weren't abused. I'd ensure no one was doing something they shouldn't. I could get all my dreams, create the company I always wanted, provide for you and make you happy. I thought it was the answer to everything."

He fell silent as he stared at the picture on the far wall of he and Harriet Jones. All the wealth and power in the world and what had it gotten him?

"Didn't turn out that way, did it?" Jackie was never bright, but she had her perceptive moments. She glanced back at her, a sad smile tugging at his mouth.

"No. I mean, I got rich, yeah. Jacks and I could afford to move out, to a new place, get nice things, all the stuff I always wanted to do for her. But money isn't everything."

"Don't I know it," she sniffed. "My cousin, Mo, you may not have her on this side, but she won the lottery, enough to get a place in the Lake District. Climbing mountains or something. Anyway, miserable as the day out there, no one to talk to. All that money and no one to share it with." Jackie sniffed, glancing around the room. "No offense, your flat is posh, but doesn't look very friendly like."

He wanted to laugh at her. His Jackie would have wrinkled her nose at the decor or complained that she hadn't used the designer she'd sent over. This Jackie thought the room was too pretty, too cold. There were differences after all.

"Something to be said, I guess, about getting everything you thought you want," Pete replied. "You could get the greatest gift in the world and then find out it's not everything you thought it was cracked up to be. We got money, but that's what came between us in the marriage. Ironic. That was what was always between us in the marriage."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "If she was anything like me, Pete, she was young. And like as not an idiot and had her head turned by all that money and whatever. I mean, remember, in my world, I'd been made a mother and then widowed. Tends to change a person. Bet if my Pete had gotten famous before all that happened I'd have turned into one of those Hilton sisters or something."

Pete had no idea what who the Hilton sisters were, but he glossed over that easily as he temporized. "Maybe. Still, just strange. I got what I wanted and found out that in the end what I wanted was something else."

A wife who adored him. A daughter to spoil and protect. A family. Viciously, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he cleared his throat roughly. "But, none of that answers the problem we have at hand. You, Jackie Tyler, are now in my world. So what do you plan to do for yourself?"

Clearly she hadn't worked it out that far yet. Blankly she began picking at the cuffs of her jacket, brows knitting in unhappy worry. "Well, I don't know. I mean, we don't have things here. No jobs, no identities, nowhere to live." Her dark eyebrows flew to her peroxide blonde hair. "Oh, God! No money. What in the world are we supposed to do?"

Before the air of panic quickly swirling around Jackie could settle, Pete tried to intervene. "You don't have to worry about money."

"What do you mean, not worry?" Her eyes narrowed, dangerously.

"I have money, Jackie, if you and Rose need anything."

"Oh, no." Immediately she jumped up, face flushing for a different reason, hands flying to her hips in the classic, Jackie battle pose. "I'm not taking someone's money. I'm not a kept woman, never have been, never will be. I took care of Rose for nineteen years just fine, I can do it again."

"Kept woman?" How did this conversation jump off track already? "Jackie, I was just offering help."

"And I ain't no charity case. Sure, I've not had a straight job in years, but I took in hair, I made out alright. Bet I could do it again, yeah. Make a decent living."

"Jackie!" He sighed, feeling the hint of a headache already forming. How in the hell could he break this to her? "Jackie, it's not as simple as you and Rose moving out there and making a go of it."

"And why couldn't we? Made it okay without you around, didn't we?"

"Yes," he acceded, figuring it was better to agree than to point out he wasn't her dead husband. "But the problem is that you are Jackie Tyler."

"And what's that got to do with anything?"

"My wife...Jackie Tyler."

"I'm not your wife. We never met till yesterday!"

"Do you think the rest of the world knows that?"

And then the penny dropped.

"They all think I'm her!"

Her gasp left a cold pit in Pete's stomach where his cup of coffee churned uncomfortably. "Yeah. I mean we both know you're not, but the public won't know."

Desperation mixed with confusion as she began to stammer. "Why do they have to know? Why do they have to hear anything? I can be just a nobody, just going about my business…"

"My wife was a very well known personality," Pete sighed, not for the first time regretting his Jackie's public persona. "Like your Hilton sisters, I guess, always in the papers, even was going to get her own show when she died." She had mentioned that to him in passing that horrible day so long ago. He'd been frustrated then. Now, he could see the very idea of it terrifying this new Jackie Tyler, who'd never so much as stepped foot out of the Powell Estates.

"So, I can dye my hair. Maybe go black or perhaps even ginger. Been thinking of trying that, you know, something different after all these years. Anyway, I could change it up. Take up a new name. Whatever it takes!"

"Jackie," he sighed, trying to stem the tide of the hysterics.

"Or maybe I could get some plastic surgery, change my nose, maybe take off a few pounds, you know, and no would know I was the same person."

"Jacks…"

"Maybe move to America. You still have an America here, right? I could live in LA with Rose and maybe do makeup for movies or something. Living somewhere where it's warm all year…"

"Jacqueline!"

Her full name startled her into quiescence quickly enough. He growled, scrubbing his stubbly head with the palm of one hand, wondering how in the hell they had gotten into this predicament.

"What will you do for money?"

"I…" She paused, snapping her mouth shut. It quirked into a twisted, hard line.

"Yeah, my point." He glared at her across his desk. "You have no money for any of this, no identification, no past. And this world operates on those things just as much as yours did. All you have is a face. And the minute you walk out of that front door and onto the streets of London, people will recognize it and think you are my long, dead wife."

Jackie stared at him for long moments, before wilting and crumbling in resignation back into one of his office chairs. "But I'm not your wife. I'm not that person. I've never been to charity events or had shows on the telly. I'm just...not…"

She faltered, helpless. Pete felt his heart breaking for her.

"I know," he murmured, sympathetic despite it all. How would he have felt had the situation been reversed? If he'd been trapped in her world, having to step into the shoes of a man long dead.

"What should I do, Pete?" Her plea was so sorrowful, he wanted to throw himself around the desk, take her in his arms and reassure her that it would all be okay, just like he used to back in the old days. Instead, he sighed heavily, reaching for his tablet with Miles' encoded file on it.

"I've had my team working overnight on something. I wanted to run it by you first, before presenting it to Rose."

"Why?" Jackie eyed the tablet in suspicion.

"Because...I don't know how she will take it." He had to be honest, it was a good plan, if all parties agreed to it. That was the tricky part. "You are easy enough to fit into this world. You can take up the identity of Jackie Tyler, wife of Pete Tyler."

"But you said she was dead!"

"Well, perhaps we were mistaken," Pete shrugged with a hint of a smile. "Perhaps Jackie was thought to be dead, but in reality she was somewhere else, her memory temporarily missing due to the trauma she suffered. She was taken care of in a lovely place, by caring people who didn't recognize her right away. And it is only recently that she's returned to herself and felt ready to face the world that she's been struggling to remember for the last three years."

Jackie blinked mildly. "Sounds like an episode of a soap. What, I come back from the dead, and everyone is okay with it?"

"Why not? It's far more believable than you are a Jackie Tyler from another universe, isn't it?"

Clearly she hadn't thought of that. "Alright, so saying I do agree to this madness. I can just say I didn't die, had amnesia, didn't remember who I was. What about everything your wife did? Who were her friends? I don't know them. What if one of them comes up to me and wants to reconnect and I don't know who they bloomin' are?"

"Easy enough. Your memory has been touchy." It was as neat of an explanation as Pete could think of. "You don't remember many people. And your personality has changed, your focus shifted. You are now more interested in other things, which explains why it is that you aren't throwing yourself at the press anymore."

It was a perfect explanation...well, nearly so.

"You got one more problem," she murmured knowingly, crossing her arms and glaring from the depths of the chair she lounged in.

"What's that?" He'd been feeling rather proud of himself. Well, himself and Miles, he had to admit.

"Rose," she replied simply.

That was the stickier one. "We didn't forget her. She's just more...problematic."

"She didn't exist in this world. How you going to explain away a daughter you and your wife never had?"

Even Miles had hit a dead end. He'd suggested a long lost niece, or a girl from the home where Jackie was at who had become like a daughter to her. And somehow Pete wasn't sure that either Jackie or Rose would go for that sort of solution. It wasn't as if he and Jackie had a lot of of extended kin they could claim Rose belonged to.

And that was when the idea clicked.

"You said in your world you didn't want Rose at first, right?"

"I said I panicked and got hysterical when I was pregnant, not that I didn't want her."

"Still, you said you told your husband you wanted to find a family member to take her in."

"Yeah, at least to give her a better life."

"What if you and your Pete had?"

Jackie only stared at him, confused.

Pete grinned at her, a wonderful planning spinning out of his head. "What if you and your Pete had. You'd given Rose to a relative to raise, because you didn't think you'd ever give her a life like she needed. Let's say your cousin Mo, in the Lake District."

"Is Mo even alive here?"

"I'm not sure, she and Jackie stopped talking years ago. The point is that Rose was raised by others. Once I got wealthy, she was already happy in her new home and not wishing to disrupt it, we chose to leave things as they were, seeing quietly to her education and her well being. And she never knew the truth of her family, not until you started getting your memories back."

"And then, what, I decide I wanted to find my long, lost daughter?"

"Yeah...that's the gist of it." Pete grimaced. Now, as he thought of it, it did sound rather like a trashy, soap opera plot. All they needed was for a long lost, evil twin to appear.

Jackie mulled this over for long moments, picking at her fingernails in worry. She narrowed her eyes as she spoke again and regarded him. "So...if I'm faking being your wife. You don't expect that…"

"No!" Pete interjected, perhaps a bit more forcefully than he intended, earning a slightly hurt look from Jackie. "No, no, it's not that, just...well, I am not going to make you do something you don't want...to."

He cleared his throat roughly, and wishing for the moment that this woman wasn't the copy of the one he had wanted and missed so badly for so long.

"Besides, me and my Jackie, we'd not...we'd been separated for a few months by the time everything happened. Had filed papers, just hadn't made it all official yet."

He stared down at his half drunk coffee and realized how incredibly awkward all of this was. "Look, I more just want to take care of you and Rose. I am the one who pulled you into this. And Rose, she'd be my daughter if things were different. If I know your Pete, and I think I'm a pretty good judge on him and what he'd want, he'd do the same thing in my shoes."

That at least earned a smile from Jackie. She grinned, nodding firmly. "That he would. And you're a good man, both of you." Even as she said that, she paused, clapping a hand to her mouth. She laughed, shaking her head. "This is madness, this is, all of it."

"Yeah, it is. But at least we've got each other, Jackie Prentiss."

Her face softened as she nodded. "Yeah, we do."

God, he loved it when she got all gooey-eyed like that, he caught himself thinking, almost without realizing it. He wanted to be stern with himself and found he was failing, miserably.

"But now, we got a different problem," she pointed out.

"And what's that."

"Convincing your soon to be daughter of all of this."

Rose...oh yes.

"Think she will go for it?"

Jackie could only offer a shrug by way of comfort.


	23. Chapter 23

Jackie knew her daughter well. Rose's reaction was less than enthusiastic.

"What's the point," she challenged the minute Pete had finished explaining. They sat in his the dining area, cups of Jackie's fabulous tea in front of them. Mickey shot both Pete and Jackie an "I told you so" look and ducked his head at Jackie's venomous glare, choosing to busy himself with one of the fancy biscuits Pete had unearthed from some cupboard.

"What do you mean 'what's the point'? The point is starting a new life for the two of you over here." Pete knew the instant he did it he had said the wrong thing. Rose's brown eyes flashed angrily, her jaw jutting out just as his did when he was upset.

"Why would we have to do that? The Doctor will come and get us, take us back home."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Pete, Jackie, and Mickey all eyed each other sideways and tried hard not to look dubious in front of Rose's face. They needn't bother hiding it, she noticed anyway.

"None of you think he's coming back, do you?" She glared first at her mother, then at Mickey, and avoided Pete altogether.

"Sweetheart, it's not that we don't think he wouldn't come back," Jackie began, looking to Mickey for support. "It's just...well, we don't know when that will be."

"It was hard enough us getting over there and we were lucky." Mickey offered by way of some sort of feeble explanation.

"Yeah, but you aren't Time Lords or geniuses, and you aren't nearly a thousand years old either." Rose's anger was hot as she lashed out between her mother and best mate. "His people did this all the time, remember? They could do things that humans couldn't even imagine."

"Yeah, but his people are all dead," Mickey replied somberly beside her. Rose whipped around to glare at him, but he didn't flinch. "He said it himself. When his people were alive, they used to be able to do those things. But then the war happened. And they are all gone. We only fell through that one time on accident. But he's sealed everything. Maybe he can't get back."

For one, breathless moment, Rose stared at her childhood friend with a look of complete and utter brokenness, but then it shifted.

"Maybe you just don't want him to," she snarled, throwing herself up to tower over a startled Mickey. "You're jealous of him because he took me away from you and you think this will get us back together. But I don't want to marry you, Mickey! I don't want to settle down and have babies and do nothing with my life."

Poor Mickey was too startled to answer her, his eyes wide and white in his dark face, fumbling as to what to say. But before he could manage anything, Rose had turned on her mother, her face livid with anger and tears.

"And you, all you've ever did was complain because I wasn't staying with you. As if you couldn't care about what I wanted to do with my life. I didn't want to stay in the estates. I want so much more. And now you're happy, because I can't go anywhere. I'm stuck right where I began, on one planet, in one time, eating beans on toast and watching shit telly, while I listen to you complain about whatever the neighbor down the way has been doing with their life. And I'll just be stuck, stuck in nothing, just like you."

Pete was far too shocked by the display to bother being outraged on either Mickey or Jackie's behalf. But he knew Rose's words hit home with Jackie as her face turned a milky color. Rose's fury wasn't to be abated, however, as she turned on Pete.

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about someone taking care of you, Mum. You have ready made Dad here, ready to step in with money enough to smooth it all over and make it all better. Which was what you always wanted out of him, right?" She flickered a scornful glance at her mother. "Dad was no good when he was alive, but now that you found one who made something of himself in another world, everything is perfect. Course, I didn't exist in this world. Maybe that's why he was a success. Maybe that's why now you can have everything."

Her snide shot hit uncomfortably close to home for Pete. He had wondered about the difference between this world and the other, one in which he'd succeeded without a Rose in it, and the other where she existed but he'd failed. Frankly, it was all a matter of Torchwood, but to a irate Rose, that didn't seem to matter.

"You aren't my father, you know," she murmured, voice hard as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I offered. I gave you the chance. And you ran away. My father, he didn't run away."

Her words were ironic, considering the very next second she turned and made for the door of Pete's apartment, Jackie heartbroken cry following the girl close behind.

"What's she doing? She doesn't know it out there!" Jackie wailed, beseeching Pete to do something.

"She's been here before and gotten around fine. It's not that different, this London," Pete reassured her, wondering if maybe he shouldn't call Miles to put a tail on her all the same.

"I know where's she's gone," Mickey murmured quietly, looking devastated over his unfinished tea and broken biscuit. When Jackie and Pete turned to him, he jerked his chin upwards. "Rose always went to the roof of the estates. Was always quiet, no one went up there."

"I was always yelling at her to get down, thought she'd kill herself." Jackie sniffed, wiping at streaming eyes. "Maybe I should go to her."

"No," Mickey stood, shoving hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I should go."

Pete had a feeling both of them were the last people Rose wanted to see at the moment, especially when she came to herself and remembered what she had said to them. "How about I go, instead?"

They both turned to stare at him.

"Look, she's obviously angry at all of us; the world, the situation, the Doctor even. But I'm the one with the least bone to pick, right? Let me go and chat with her."

Jackie didn't look so certain. MIckey, nowever, nodded.

"Besides," Pete gave Jackie a crooked smile. "She may have your temper, but she's right. She gave me a chance to be her dad and I ran away. Maybe I should start making that up."

Fresh tears trailed down Jackie's cheek as he patted her shoulder and made for the front door. The rooftop access was hard to find, but not impossible. Not surprisingly, he found the door ajar. He climbed the last three flights to the top, stepping out to the cool, breezy grayness of the afternoon. Rose stood on the front edge of the building, overlooking the posh neighborhood he had lived in since he'd last seen her. Her blonde hair was ruffled by the chilly breeze as she stood with her arms wrapped around her blue hoodie. He rounded the ventilation unit to where she stood, tears streaming down her face already smeared with worn mascara.

"If you are thinking about jumping, won't do you a ton of good. There's a tarp there over the front that will catch your fall."

Rose snorted, something of a laugh burbling out beyond the tears. "I would never."

"I know," he nodded, smiling as he gently nudged her shoulder with his own. "Wouldn't occur to you to do that. Too much like your mum to do something that foolish."

Rose was quiet for several moments, sniffing softly.

"Did you...think about that. When your Jackie…"

"For half a bit, yeah." He was honest. He thought of hanging over the exploding building with her clinging for dear life just above him. "When Lumic fell, I thought about it. And then again, later, after you'd left. Laid in the street outside of Mickey's Gran's house, wanted to die."

Rose nodded softly, still not looking at him. "Why didn't you?"

"Mickey found me and talked some sense into me," he replied, glancing at her sideways. "He's not an idiot, you know. He can be smart in his own way."

"I know," she whispered, her full mouth twisting with a new onslaught of tears. "I didn't mean to be so horrid down there, I just…"

"Hurt so badly you can't believe you are even breathing?"

"Yeah," she squeaked behind a sob, as he reached for her finally. She turned into his embrace, burying her head into his chest, sobbing in utter brokenness. Pete held her tightly, remembering that horrible day in front of Rita Ann's house, and remembering just how painful that heartache felt.

"It's all right," he whispered into her hair, and for a moment wondered what it would have been like to do this for her when she was growing up and had come home with her heart broken. Regret for a life that wasn't his own flared as he briefly brushed a soft kiss against her golden hair. If Rose felt it strange or odd, she didn't mention it. She simply cried until Pete's jumper was damp with it, and even when she had settled down she stayed in his arms as he rocked her gently back and forth, murmuring reassuring nothings. When she did finally pull away, her eyes remained fixed somewhere at his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her lips swollen and nose red and blotchy as she tried to wipe ineffectually at his chest. "I made you all snotty."

"It's okay. If I missed out on the soiled nappies and spit up, I can live with a little snot on my jumper."

Rose laughed, rubbing at her eyes. "You know, technically, you aren't my father."

"DNA test would say otherwise."

"True." She sighed, sniffing again, leaning against the wall of the ledge. "But you didn't raise me."

"Neither did your real father. Maybe this is a second chance for both of us."

"Maybe," she whispered, staring at her trainers. "You don't think he's coming back, do you? The Doctor?"

Pete wasn't sure whether he could give a definitive answer to that question. "Honestly, I don't know."

Rose glanced up at him, a hint of hope in her woebegone expression. Pete was careful to temper it, however.

"I honestly don't know if it's possible. The Doctor said that the only reason any of this was happening were cracks in the universe, cracks we kept making worse jumping between the two. He was trying to seal them up, before both our worlds collapsed. He might be able to get back here, Rose, but would he? I don't think he'd jeopardize two universes and all of existence for that."

"You mean for me?" She looked so young and hurt when she said that, Pete ached for her.

"Rose, if he could come to get you, he would. I know he would. The minute Jake brought him here, the first thought he had was to get back to you and your mother. You were his top priority."

"Yeah, so much of a priority he tricked me long enough so you could put one of those jumpers around my neck. Fat lot of concern there! Whisk Rose out of the way so she won't be a problem anymore."

Pete sighed. No one liked being made a fool and the Doctor certainly had that way of pulling the "I know better than you do what's best" card. He had a feeling that if Rose was anything like either himself or Jackie she liked that about as much as cats liked swimming pools.

"He wanted you safe, Rose." He knew in the very fiber of his being that's what had motivated the Doctor. More than saving the universe, even, he wanted to ensure that she was safe.

Rose only shook her head, jutting her chin in anger. "You know he did this once before. Tricked me into the TARDIS, had her take me back to my time, so he could save the universe. That time I came back, though."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Pete, given how little he knew of Rose and Mickey's stories about her. Rose seemed to think that impossible was a subjective sort of term. "How did you manage that?"

"I don't remember," Rose shrugged, rubbing her elbows through her jacket. "I mean, there's something about Bad Wolf. I destroyed the Daleks. I think...it's all a dream, really." Her eyes misted as she tried to remember. "All I know is that there was this singing and when I came back to being me, the Doctor changed his face. He changed everything."

It wasn't the first time Pete had heard about this miraculous ability this Doctor had in changing his face. "If I could get you through, back to him, with the technology we have, I would. But none of it is working now."

"I know," she mumbled, tucking one flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. "We were just there. I thought we were winning. And my fingers slipped and I began getting sucked in. And I could hear him screaming, over all that howling wind, you know. Screaming my name. I've never heard him sound so scared."

Floating to life was the fleeting image of the look of utter terror on the Doctor's face as Pete had wrapped his arms around Rose floated and he shuddered. "He loved you. You know that, right?"

Dolefully the girl shook her head, painfully turning to look out over the city. "We weren't like that, me and him."

"Just because you 'weren't like that' doesn't make it any less true. Love's not all about raging hormones and sweaty sex in some alley somewhere."

The image worked. A laugh snorted out of Rose, swollen eyes wide in horrified amusement as he looked at him. "Oh my God, you didn't just…"

"What?" He couldn't help the laugh that turned the corners of his mouth up mischievously. "Don't think I know what that's about?"

Defenseless, Rose held up her hands as a weak barrier. "God, no, just…I don't even want to think…"

"I mean, in a way, I'm just like your father, and obviously he made you."

"Oh, please, let's not go there."

"I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well...we can just not discuss you, or your wife, or my mother and father, and...sex. Ever." She shuddered, shoulders hunching before she burst out laughing at him. "Really, you just...throw that out there?"

"Made you laugh, didn't it?"

"Yeah," she conceded, snickering. "It did."

For a long moment they stood there, Pete with hands in pockets, Rose with her arms wrapped around her, staring off into the coolness of London spring. It was so strange, Pete mused, glancing sideways at the girl beside him, studying her. She could have been his daughter, had things been different. She could have had a father growing up. They both had spent a lifetime longing for the other, in their fashion.

"Rose," he finally murmured gruffly into the stillness. "I know I'm not your real dad. He...was a different man. And a good one, if he was anything like me."

His quip drew a tight smile from her as she slid her gaze to watch him carefully.

"I screwed up that night. I was...scared. Overwhelmed. Frightened. Heartbroken. You name it, I was all those things. You calling me 'dad' that night was just one more thing, and I couldn't handle it. And I can't say I haven't regretted my response since."

"It's all right," she shrugged, sadly. "I mean, it was stupid of me to push myself on you like that. I mean, honestly, a daughter from another universe,? No wonder!"

"True. But I handled it badly. And the truth was, I always wanted a daughter. Always did. And if I had one with my Jackie, I'd hope she was half as brave as you."

A blush flushed across Rose's tear and makeup stained face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he smiled softly. "If this plan of ours is to work, I have to tell the world I'm your dad. And all the DNA tests will say it. And it's going to come with a lot of expectations, now, the long lost daughter of Pete and Jackie Tyler. But there are some rewards, too. I mean, I'd make sure you'd not want for anything."

"I don't care about that," she sniffed, but he cut her off, continuing.

"I do and your dad would. I am not your Pete Tyler. But I'm close enough, aren't I?"

Rose watched him for a long moment, before nodding carefully.

"I mean, I'm not asking you to call me 'dad'. You can if you want, but if you rather not…"

"No!" Rose jumped over him, smiling nervously. "I mean...Dad. I don't know, it's just too confusing, you look just like him, and I think of you like him, and I guess you could be a twin, but…Dad's fine."

"Okay." Unlike the last time, the term warmed him, touching emotions he didn't think he had. "I don't mind. But my point is, I just hope you will come to trust me. Let me help you and your mum while you're here."

That all important word, "while". In implied an impermanence, a transitory state. Hope flared to life in Rose's cinnamon eyes as they turned, unerringly, towards the sky above.

"He could come back, you know. If there's anyone who can, it's him."

Pete didn't have the heart to tell her he thought that it was unlikely. Besides, she was right, if anyone could, it would be the mad alien she had somehow found herself with.

"If he can, Rose, he will. He may do something mad to do it, but I think he will find a way to get to you."

"If it's the Doctor, it's usually mad." Her gaze never wavered from the gray gloom above.


	24. Chapter 24

Pete stood in the shadows of his living room, watching the scene in silence. Jackie and Rose lay curled together on the couch, watching a movie in the bathrobes he'd sent out for while their clothing washed. Their two bright heads rested close on the sofa as they murmured together watching some old movie that Rose said was just like one they had in their world. It must have been close enough, he'd heard them recite lines and giggle to each other. It was the sort of domestic scene that tugged at Pete's heart in ways he didn't know he could feel anymore.

"Looks cozy," Miles intoned beside him, eyeing the mother and daughter half in wonder, half in humor. "Never knew Jackie could cook."

Pete snorted, ignoring the slight burn of indegestion that the shepherd's pie from dinner was causing him. "She can't, never could, but this one at least tries."

Pete nearly had laughed at the look on Miles' face when he walked into the door to find a Jackie bustling around the kitchen, eagerly greeting him with a smile. It was so unlike the Jackie Miles had known that the normally witty man was at a loss for words. The fact that this Jackie was polite, even charming, left him nearly silent through the meal, with nary a caustic observation out of his ascerbic friend.

As if reading his thoughts, Miles continued. "She's actually quite...pleasant. Don't tell her I said that."

"I won't. Wouldn't want to ruin your image." Pete grinned sideways at him as he moved out of the shadows and back towards his study, Miles following. "She's more like the Jackie I used to remember. The one I fell in love with."

If Miles had a witty comeback then, he chose to withhold it. "She's night and day different from your wife." It was more than just a random observation, there was worry there. "This is going to be a hard sell, you know."

"I know," Pete sighed, settling into his desk chair, scrubbing a hand across his scalp. "Have PR work on it. They can whip it together. They've taken care of madder things. Make it all lovely and feel good, and any complaints will blow over no sooner than it takes some minor, telly celeb to take off her knickers in public, three sheets to the wind and slingshot them off the top of a bar."

"And just for that I'd pay off the bar tab of whatever minor celebrity it was, just to have it blow over." Miles grimaced as he fell into a chair across from Pete. "The Rose angle alone will be difficult enough."

"Fake birth certificate, fake school records, who will question it? Want me to run a DNA test?"

"Probably should, just to have it." Miles didn't want to cut corners with this and it was why Pete entrusted him with this. "We'll need to schedule and interview, of course, just to get Jackie's voice out there. I was thinking Sherrie Wexler."

"What color is her hair now?"

"Black with platinum highlights."

Pete grimaced at the visual image. "Is that a thing now?"

"I suppose she couldn't decide what she wanted."

Pete snorted, leaning back. "She's perfect, otherwise. She loves me."

"And she can cry on command, practically. A story this good, she'll melt the heart of the most hardened Tory into a pile of goo. The tragic night, the missing memory, reuniting with a child long believed lost. They'll make telly movies out of this for sure."

"I don't want that. Enough of my life has been an open book." Pete shuddered at the thought. "Tomorrow, I want to recruit Amanda to take Jackie and Rose out, discretely, just to get a few things. Two of them are here with just the clothes on their back, and that's it."

"I'm sure Jackie will enjoy that." Rose was still an enigma to them both. She had been quiet all through dinner, despite Miles' best efforts, and even Mickey hadn't been able to cheer her out of it. "You know, Pete, this changes things. Everything."

"I know," he muttered airily, but Miles became insistant.

"Do you? It's been three years since you've had a wife. And for all that she looks the same, she's not the same woman."

Pete bit back the growl at Miles' now familiar refrain. "I've caught on to that."

"I just wanted to remind you of this as we jump into this ocean of madness. Because the minute we release this out there, the moment she becomes your Jackie Tyler, she becomes your wife and Rose becomes your daughter. Are you ready for that?"

His wife and daughter. He shrugged, despite the horrible knot the idea formed in his gut. "Ready or not, what else am I to do?"

Miles only stared at him evenly.

"If you have better suggestions, I'd love to hear them."

"I don't, and you know it." Miles picked at an imaginary spot of lint off his neatly pressed slacks. "I'm just curious about how far you are going to take this, Pete. I mean, really, think about this."

"You don't think I haven't?" He glared at the other man in annoyance, more irritated by the fact that Miles was reiterating the same thoughts that had been spinning around his own brain for the last twenty-four hours. "For right now, we are taking things as we can. She's going to present herself as my long-lost wife, and Rose is our long missing daughter, and we will leave it at that."

He didn't want to think much farther than that. The idea of it made Pete's brain spin to dangerous places, ones he didn't think he was ready for. Right at this moment, he really just wanted to get her and her daughter situated and settled, to get them a home and security. The thought of what it would mean to be husband and wife again was the last thing he wanted to consider.

"All sham and mirrors? Just like it was with your wife?" Miles' blue eyes gazed hard over the rims of his glasses.

Pete made a face, already irrtated with this conversation. "She's been here twenty-four hours, Miles, doesn't even have a stitch of clothing or a thing to call her own, and what are you doing? Playing matchmaker?"

"I'm just throwing the possibility out there."

"You are the one who keeps reminding me she isn't my wife."

"Yeah. And maybe that's not such a bad thing."

Pete merely stared at him for long moments before snorting. This was all madness. He was too tired to even consider anything beyond simply ensuring that the Tyler women were safe and cared for. "What does Singh have to say about the cracks between realities?"

"So far our readings say they are closing for the most part. Anything that's left would be too miniscule to see."

"Let's hope those seal themselves over with time." Pete thought of the Doctor, just as he had several times over the last day or so, wondering what he was doing and how he was coping. "And Harriet Jones? You informed her of what happened?"

"Her office was informed, and she sends her commendations."

"Wonderful," he smirked, glad that at least someone out there was pleased that they had managed to save the world again. "What about all the servers you were all able to snag?"

"I've got IT on it, and Mickey and Jake to act as advisors, since they've been to that world. Mickey in particular is useful, though his appalling lack of knowledge of anything beyond what he sees on the telly is has proven annoying.

Pete smirked. Mickey was a great kid, smart and brave in his fashion, but not exactly well-rounded. Perhaps that's why he always depended on Rose, her natural curiosity balanced it all out. A slow smile crept across Pete's face, a thought spinning to life as he considered the situation.

"How about asking Rose?"

Miles' blonde eyebrows knitted as he considered. "I hadn't thought of it. You'd think she'd do it?"

"She likely would. Only so many old movies she could watch with Jackie. Give her something to keep her preoccupied."

A knowing, pained expression flickered between Pete and Miles and his assistant field director nodded. "She seems smart, capable. I'll see if she'd like to help."

"Keep me posted on how she does," Pete murmured, carefully. "Let me know if she works out."

Miles smiled knowingly as he rose. "And I will keep you posted on Sherrie Wexler. We need to get this done fast, before the tabs get wind of it and it gets out of our control."

"I trust you with it." Pete waved him off as he rose to follow him out. "When have you let me down?"

"Never that you know of."

After seeing Miles out, he returned to the living room to find the movie nearly over and Rose and Jackie curled together comfortably, both fast asleep. He sighed, smiling softly. A wife again and now a daughter. His ready made family. The responsibility of it suddenly hung heavily on his shoulders as he reached for the remote and flicked off the television. Neither woman stirred. He turned, leaving them to slumber as he removed himself to his own bedroom, sleep not finding him as easily as it did Jackie and Rose.


	25. Chapter 25

"And so you didn't remember anything of your life before?"

"No." Jackie shook her head, a fat tear rolling off her heavily made up eyelash as she did so, as if on cue. Acrylic nails reached up to swipe it away, as someone from Sherrie's BBC film crew helpfully handed her a tissue. Jackie dabbed at her eyes gracefully, as she managed a watery smile. "I didn't even remember my own name, let alone my Pete. It was just too...hard, I guess, after everything."

Sherrie nodded, her now black and platinum bouncing, humming in warm sympathy. Tears sheened her own eyes as she sniffed, ever so delicately in heartbroken understanding. "It must have been so hard."

Mickey let out a snort that quickly dissolved into loud, gut-wrenching guffaws. Sherrie Wexler paused mid-sniff on the large screen in Pete's living room as Miles turned an unamused glare over to his subordinate. Mickey only sniggered beside Rose, who mildly slapped him upside the back of his head.

"Honestly, you'd think you were twelve," she muttered, rolling her eyes as Mickey only snickered harder.

"It's just...seriously, she is eating this tosh up."

"Which is what we wanted her to do," Miles murmured in mild agitation, as on the other side of the couch, Jackie frowned at the screen.

"It's true what they say," she mused beside Pete, frowning at the frozen image. "The telly does add ten pounds."

Mickey dissolved into a fit of giggles again, only furthering Miles irritation as he stood by the large, flat screen, looking as if the pair of them had insulted his favorite painting. And perhaps they had, for this interview with Sherrie Wexler had been the culmination of two weeks worth of preparation on Torchwood's part, the final revelation to the world that Jackie Tyler had returned.

Pete only shook his head as he glanced to Rose across the way, who finally took pity on Miles and his indignation. "It looks great. Don't you think so, Mum?"

"Well, yeah, except my face looks as big as a lorry after a drunken night out."

"Besides that, Mum." Rose punched the chortling best mate in the shoulder. "I mean, this is just part of a whole series of things, yeah? A whole campaign."

Miles at least felt on more even footing with Rose than he clearly did with Jackie, who still appeared unimpressed. "There's been leaks in the press already this week, claims of sightings. And of course, Pete, your office at Vitex has been prepped to say that they are unprepared to make a statement at this time. But I have an 'unnamed source' over there who is willing to cough up that you've been spending months away from the office on 'personal business'. You've been up to your eyeballs at Torchwood, but it plays off well. It will lend credence to the idea that you've taken time off to deal with all of this."

"Never mind the fact I was really just trying to save the world," Pete replied dryly to Miles' wry smirk.

"Sad plight of the hero, sir, like prophets you are never recognized in your own lifetime."

"When will the interview go live?"

"Have it scheduled for a week from now, let the buzz build up. Then we will let it loose and then see what happens."

"I can tell you what happens," Pete muttered, rising from beside Jackie to pace fretfully. He'd been in the eye of the press long enough to know how one of these escapades usually went. "I'll have reporters knocking about my door and following my every move, that's what."

"You knew that was likely going to happen anyway, right?" Miles replied. And he was right, Pete did. Still, he didn't have to exactly like it. He'd never been a giant fan of the press, he'd seen them as a necessary evil before. Now, with this new Jackie and Rose, they struck him as a positive threat.

"Press at the door, coming to see me, when I look as if I'm a breakfast sausage?" Jackie tisked in disbelief. "Seriously, makes you wonder what this world is coming to."

"Mum you've not been in this world long enough to know what it even started out as."

"I'm just saying, it's a wonder they'd care about this."

Pete knew what she meant. For Jackie Tyler from the Powell Estates it had to be mind boggling that anyone, let alone the press, would care tuppence for the likes of her and her daughter.

"And you don't know the half of it, Jackie." Miles was matter-of-fact as he glanced between mother and daughter. "Your predecessor was a celebrity in her own right. The news that you are back and with a daughter no one knew about will be the talk of the year."

"Oh, God," Rose breathed, grabbing a pillow to throw across her face as she fell back against the cushions.

Jackie looked as equally horrified. "I don't want to be famous. I just...I don't know..." She looked to Pete with wide, blue eyes. "Pete, really, I mean, I agreed to letting everyone think I was your wife, but really, do I need to be your wife?"

That phrase was so loaded with meaning it made Pete wince. Unbidden, other thoughts rose to mind, ones with a different woman in a different time, a woman who shared the same face. He cleared his throat roughly as he shrugged, looking anywhere but at Jackie's pleading expression.

"She's right, Miles. I mean, it's the only solution we got, but she and Rose didn't sign up for this. We can't stay in London, not when this breaks. It will be a field day."

"There's always abroad," the other man offered.

"Ooohh, that sounds more like it!" Jackie perked up at that. "Someplace like the Bahamas would be nice."

"Think they don't have press in Naussau?" Pete shook his head.

Miles was thoughtful. "How about more secluded? A cabin somewhere? Maybe on the continent?"

"I'm not roughing it," Jackie muttered in distaste.

"It wouldn't be roughing it," Miles retorted. "I mean, you know the kind of cabins he can get."

"Anything that was in a woods would be roughing it for Jackie," Mickey chimed in, earning a dark warning from Jackie and a roll of the eyes from Rose.

"He's right, Mum, you whinged and complained when my school class took an outing to Hyde Park."

"All right, then, where would you suggest," her mother snapped peevishly.

Rose blinked, considering before turning to Pete. "Whatever happened to your mansion?"

Her question was simple enough, but it had turned Pete's guts into lead. Still, she had no way of knowing, nor did Mickey, really, who had been there the entire time. "Yeah, you had this big, posh house when we met you. Remember, we crashed that party?"

"Yeah," Rose grinned, sadly. "Whatever happened to it?"

"He closed it up," Miles cut in before Pete could even make a reply. "It's been sitting for nearly four years with nothing being done."

"Just hadn't put it on the market yet," Pete shot back darkly, ignoring the truth of the matter. He'd not had the heart to sell the house that his wife had loved so much. It had been his Jackie's home, much more so than his, and as much as he'd hated it, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it either. It had been the last place they had been together. It was the last place he'd seen her alive.

"Well, it's still yours. You've been paying the taxes and the upkeep. Might as well use it, right?"

He could kick Miles at the moment...hard.

"Place hasn't been used in years. Hard telling what it's like. Last time I was there..." He trailed off. The last time he had been there was right after Lumic. The house was a disaster, the refuse of Jackie's birthday party lay about the place, dried out and rotting. There were still dead there. Everything had been too mad in the immediate aftermath and Pete had been forced to call authorities to take care of the remains. Most of them were guests to his wife's party or staff that had been hired to help. He'd paid for professional services to clean the place, and had them close it up. There it had remained as Pete attempted to move on from that tragic night.

"Still, it's a quiet place, right, just out of the city," Mickey offered. "You'd like it, Jackie, it's huge and posh."

"And empty! It's not been lived in for years," Pete retorted, uselessly he could tell. Already he could see the interest and hopefulness in Jackie's expression.

"Still, you could have someone get it ready enough for the likes of us, right? Not like we require a lot."

"She has a point, Pete." Miles spoke at his shoulder and he resisted the urge to smack him.

"It's huge, Miles. You've seen it. It would take weeks to get it ready to live in."

"Just the family wing, then. Wouldn't take much. Put a call into Amanda and have her arrange for a team to go set it up."

It was perfect and logical and genius. And Rose had thought of it. It was the sort of uncomplicated answer he was coming to expect from his new-found daughter. He looked to where she sat, watching him carefully.

"Right, let me give Amanda a call then, I'll see what I can have done. I want it ready before that broadcast airs, because once it does, all hell will break loose and we will never get out of here."

Jackie squealed with delight, clapping her hands together and throwing herself at Rose in a whirlwind of rapturous babbling. "Can you believe it, Rose? A real mansion! What's it like?"

Pete only grimaced as he shot a sideways glare at Miles, then stalked out of the living room and down the hallway to the quiet of his office. He pulled up Amanda on his tablet phone, shooting orders to her as he tried to mentally work through everything that would need to be done to at least make the old manor house livable again. He added in a request for extra security for good measure. No doubt the minute the press got wind of what was happening they'd figure it all out eventually. He'd just leaned back into the desk chair when the gentle rap of knuckles against his office door caused him to look up.

Rose looked considerably better than she had two weeks previously. A round of new clothing and the quick make over Torchwood PR had arranged for the television interview and she looked even better than when he had first met her all those years before at his wife's party. Nothing, not even posh new clothes and fancy make up, could remove the darkness from under her eyes, however, or the pain that lingered when she thought no one was looking. Still, it wasn't her broken heart that seemed to concern her as she flashed up a tight smile. "Can I come in?"

"By all means." He pointed to one of his desk chairs. She settled inside, curling up into it, glancing around the office in much the same way that Jackie had when she'd first come in. Likewise, her eyes settled on the photo of Harriet Jones. "Is that..."

"Harriet? Yeah." He smiled, shrugging. "Your Mum said you knew her in your world."

"Yeah. Met her when she was just an MP for Flydell North. We were trying to outrun some Slytheens."

"What?"

"Slytheens, a crime syndicate family, trying to blow up the Earth for parts. Don't know if you've encountered them here or not yet, but if you do, watch out. They like to kill large humans and use them as disguises, squeeze their bodies into their skins."

The image made Pete feel slightly queasy. "Right. You and your Doctor run into other aliens often?"

As expected, the mention of the Doctor brought tears to the girl's eyes, but she brushed them away as she nodded gamely. "Yeah, a few. Mostly people he knew, but I didn't. He knew thousands of species, millions. And he liked to show them off. I used to think it was because he just liked proving how brilliant he was, but now, I think he was just showing me because he loved learning new things and sharing that with people. So we would go to the future and the past and see and do things, meet different aliens."

"Save the world?" Pete was no fool. He had seen her now with the Doctor twice and had heard most of Mickey's stories on the subject. He had a feeling that trouble seemed to like to follow the Doctor and Rose was usually in the thick of it.

"Sometimes." She couldn't fool Pete though, not with that diffident shrug. He'd seen her in action. She was smart, canny, quick on her feet, brilliant at what she did. She'd once traveled all of time and space with an alien. Holing up in his old mansion would not be the sort of life for her, not for a girl who was struggling to accept the fact that she was a universe away from her old life.

"Miles says you've been a help with the data they collected."

If the abrupt change and subject jarred her, Rose didn't show it. "It's not hard. I mean, I wasn't great shakes at school, but I know enough."

"Still, it's better than nothing. It's useful information."

"For what?" Rose wondered, without judgment, simply curious. "I mean, it's a whole other universe, not yours at all."

"Helps to see things from a different perspective, I suppose. There are events that happened in your world that never did here, like as not there are inventions that were created, other races who were discovered in your world but not in ours."

"Catalogue it all so you can use it?" She nearly sounded as dismissive as the Doctor did.

"Yes," he replied evenly, flinching only slightly at her disapproval. "If nothing else, so we can understand all of this. Protect ourselves if needs be, but better yet, make allies. We don't have a Doctor here, Rose. No ancient alien from a long gone race who can save us when we are threatened. We may not be as wise or as powerful as the Doctor, but we make do with what we can."

His words hurt her and he was sorry for that. He had simply wanted her to understand that his Torchwood and the work they were doing was not the same as the Torchwood of her world. At least, he didn't think they were the same. He couldn't imagine making the same foolish mistake that the Yvonne Hartman in Rose's original world did.

Rather than discuss it further, to his surprise, Rose simply shifted tactics. "Your old house. Why didn't you ever go back?"

He supposed he deserved that after bringing up the Doctor. "You know why. Too many memories."

"And you are willing to bring me and Mum there?"

"Miles and Mickey are right. It's quiet enough that no one will bother us. Will allow things to calm down some. Besides, your Mum will love it."

"But will you?" She eyed him with concern. "I was there that night. I remember what happened."

"Maybe sometimes we have to face those things most painful to us if we ever hope to get over it."

He wasn't sure if he was talking about himself or Rose in that moment. He could tell she wasn't particularly sure either. They both smiled tightly at each other, a soft giggle erupting from each of them, whether out of the strangeness of their situation or the pain of facing all they had lost, he couldn't tell.

"Mum's going to be over the moon, you know, when she sees the place."

"I don't know about that. Still needs to be cleaned up. And your mum may have different tastes than my wife did."

"Is the stupid dog still about?"

"Rose?" He snorted. "You know, I haven't seen the stupid rat since that night. I always suspected she'd run away and ended up with someone else. I admit, last thing on my mind after everything."

"Pity. Poor pup." Rose ran a hand through her newly touched up hair. "I can't believe she named the dog Rose."

"Funny isn't it?"

"No," she shot back, though her broad smile and laughter belied this. "Maybe Mum needs a new dog. Something less...froofy, though, like a Labrador or a collie or something."

"We haven't even gotten to the place and you are already setting me up with a dog."

"We are in your life now, remember."

Oh he knew. Pete was more than aware. She watched him with a knowing gaze.

"This is all still strange to me, you know."

"Yeah. But this isn't some alien invasion or the end of the world or something. This is Jackie Tyler. You know her."

"Do I?"

"You would know her better once you give her a chance," she replied gently. "And who knows, this time away, at the house, maybe it will give you time to get to know her. You know, that second chance you are carrying on about. The one you asked me for?"

He knew. And still, if he admitted it to himsef, it terrified him. "She's not the same woman."

"No, she's not. Maybe she's better."

Pete studied his soon-to-be daughter. "Why you pushing this? I thought you had one foot out the door."

Rose's smile flickered, but stayed resolute. "Because she deserves to be happy, for once in her life. And frankly, I have to ask myself if you deserve it as well."

"And happy is a mansion, then, and the life of Jackie Tyler in this world?"

"I think happy is you both seeing where this goes, whatever world it is."

Wise words from a girl who technically was only twenty or twenty-one, for all that he had to fudge the date to twenty-four. "And you, Rose? Could you ever be happy here as well?"

The smile didn't fail, but the heartbreak in her eyes was real enough as he regarded him in silence. She didn't need to answer. He already knew.


	26. Chapter 26

Its gray facade looked little changed over the four years since he'd last stepped foot inside. But everything in Pete's life had changed in that time. Small wonder his heart lodged somewhere firmly in his throat as he pulled into the gravel drive in his SUV.

"Oh, Rose," Jackie breathed behind him. "This place is so big!"

"I know, Mum," Rose murmured, opening the door to step out, helping Jackie to bustle her way out of the vehicle, while Mickey hopped out of the passengers side of the front. Pete remained behind the wheel, staring across the lawn. Had it really only been four years ago that he'd made that mad dash across the lawn, Cybermen guns blasting, while he chased a then unknown couple, only to have them turn his world upside down? He glanced at Rose, who stood with her mother outside of the window. He wondered if she were thinking the same things.

"Let's go inside, then. See what is going on." Jackie had a large bag packed with her new clothing slung over her shoulder as she trudged across the gravel. "Come on, everyone. Stop standing there with your gobs open."

Rose and Mickey exchanged rueful glances as they followed in Jackie's wake. It was only when they had gotten inside that Pete decide exit. He feet crunched in the gravel as he turned to regard the place he and his wife had called home once. It had always been the other Jackie's home more than his. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to walk away from it at the end. He'd considered selling the hulk on more than one occasion. But the memory of that night and how much it meant to her always stopped him. He had so little of her left. Now he was bringing another Jackie here, one for whom there were no bitter memories of a failed marriage or a Cyberman attack. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. He certainly wasn't sure what Jackie would make of it all, either. To be living in a home he had made with a dead woman, taking on her life, stepping into her shoes?

He clearly didn't have to wait long to figure out where her thoughts may lie. She stood at the front door, hands on her denim hips. "Pete, you coming in or are you going to stare at the place as if it's haunted?"

Unlike his last wife, she watched him with amusement and empathy as he crossed the drive, shrugging sheepishly as he went. "Just been a while."

"I know." She smiled tightly, taking his arm as she tugged him gently inside. "You never told me how huge this place was!"

He had, but he doubted she understood what he meant by that. "It once belonged to some lord or the other."

"I feel like royalty, here." She positively beamed as they entered the foyer, taking in it's golden paneling and polished floors. The last time he'd been here, his wife had yelled at him for bollocksing her age. This Jackie merely stared at it, shaking her head in marvel. "Must take a lot of people to keep this place up."

"It did. We had ten on staff back in the day, including a butler, a cook, a housekeeper, a groundsman, and general staff to see to things."

"And now who keeps up with it?"

Pete shrugged as he wandered into the front room, the one in which President Caine had died. "No one, really. Haven't bothered."

"So it's just us?" Jackie spun on the spot, staring up at the crystal chandelier, the fine objects in niches on the walls.

"I thought it best, for now." He hedged. "I mean, with everything going on, I didn't want gossiping wait staff to chatter to the press or anything. And I figured it would give you time to see if you even liked the place. Maybe you'd hate it. Maybe you'd want to pick people you liked, I don't know."

He shuffled about, nervous, picking up some useless nick knack his wife had picked up somewhere. It was only when Jackie took his hand that he turned to her grateful smile.

"I think it's brilliant," she replied, squeezing his fingers. "I mean, at least till after the show has aired, yeah? We can see where this is going?"

"Sure." He nodded, his chest tightening as she slipped her hand out of his. She moved through the room, sizing it up. Somewhere in the distance, Pete thought he could hear Rose and Mickey calling to each other.

"So, we got enough goods and everything for a while here?"

"I had Amanda stock the fridge. The electricity is on. The place was cleaned top to bottom. And I've placed extra security, to keep the press out. We are as safe and quiet here as a fortress."

"Is it going to be bad?" She stopped to run a finger along the keyboard of the fine, grand piano that neither Pete nor his wife could ever play. The keys struck and the sound of the strings inside let off a discordant sound. It needed re-tuning, badly.

"I imagine it will be all over the news by Monday, yeah. Tabs will want to find out about how Jackie Tyler survived in hiding all these years and who this new, mysterious daughter is. And then there are the Vitex shares, who knows how those will be effected."

Jackie clearly had forgotten the business part of all of this. "Will it make things bad at work, then?"

"Shouldn't," Pete shrugged. "I mean, maybe a bit of a hit, but nothing I've not had to deal with before. I mean, when the whole Lumic thing broke we weren't even sure that Vitex would survive or that I'd stay out of jail."

Clearly, the fact that he was the head of a major, soft drink company still hadn't sunk quite into Jackie's understanding. She merely stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Nearly went to jail?"

"Long story." He hadn't told Jackie the entire Lumic saga, not from his side of it anyway. "Vitex will be fine. And really, I have enough money to last this lifetime and beyond, even if they were to ask me to step down, and I doubt they will do that. I mean, this is the face that sold billions of bottles."

He flashed his broad, "trust me" smile that was plastered across adverts and telly. Jackie, however, laughed outright. "People actually bought that? I saw through that twenty-years-ago. Usually meant you were up to something."

"Who says I'm not," he smirked impishly. "Needless to say, I'm not worried, Jacks."

It was his nickname for her. He'd not used it much since the day she'd appeared in this world. She blushed as her arms wrapped around her middle, bracing herself. "So, this big pile is yours, then? You going to show me around?"

"Right!" A tour would keep the pair of them preoccupied, at least for an hour or so. Maybe the creeping feeling under his skin would abate as he confronted the ghosts of memories past. "So where would you like to start?"

"I don't know?" She shrugged as she wandered to the closest doorway and peeked around it. "What's in here?"

"The dining room." The long table that had sat as center piece remained pushed against the far wall, where it had been for the party so many years before.

"Kind of big for a dining room, don't you think?"

Already he could see one massive difference between this Jackie and his wife. And it made him want to laugh aloud. Rather than hurt this Jackie's feelings, however, he merely took her arm. "You think that's big, wait till I show you the swimming pool downstairs."

That caught her attention. For the next hour they wandered around the house, through the grounds as they toured the large garden and park beyond, with its man made pond that had at one time had it's own flock of geese, through the boathouse and back to the main veranda, with its furniture stacked and covered against the elements. Back into the house he took her through the sitting room and library, towards the kitchen with its informal dining area, and then up the grand staircase, to the west wing, which housed all the lavish guest rooms and to the east wing, which had belonged to him and his wife. Now the room they had once shared stood empty, stripped of all of his things long ago, but now cleared of his wife's as well. He stopped in the doorway. He wasn't one to believe in silly things like deja vu, but he couldn't help but feel it as Jackie wandered in, heedlessly meandering from the elegant writing desk in the corner to the vanity that had once been his wife's. "Nice, this is. Classy."

"Yeah," he managed around a lump in his throat, as he silently repeated "she's not your wife" over and over again like a mantra.

She spun about, glancing from the overly large bed to the doorway on the far side that lead into the voluminous walk-in closet, right next to the full sized, luxury bath. It didn't take her long to work out whose room it was. "So this was where you two stayed?"

"Yeah," he replied as evenly as he could manage.

Her lips pursed, but otherwise she said nothing as she wandered over to the bath, disappearing inside. Pete stood, unwilling to step inside. He'd had his last conversation with her there. They'd chatted about old times. He'd tried to seduce her, but she'd have none of it. She'd showed off those blasted ear pods.

"The tubs so huge you could have a pool party in here!"

He started at the sound of Jackie's amazed outburst, torn between annoyance and amusement. "Never got around to having one of those."

"You can float a yacht in one of these," she called out over the sound of the tap being turned. "You can use it like a jacuzzi?"

"Yeah." It was a feature that his wife had wanted, had begged for with a flirtatious grin. They'd actually never got around to using it that way. He'd been far too busy for romantic baths for two or anything much more than a shower in the morning. He knew she'd used it and usually barred him from the bath when she did, telling him to use one of the others down the hall.

The tap shut off and Jackie wandered out, wiping her damp hands on her jeans. "It's certainly fancy enough. You going to stay in here then?"

He'd planned on it, actually, more out of habit than anything, but now, confronted with it, he found that he couldn't. "Nah, you could have it, if you like."

"Oh, but it's so big! I couldn't." Self-conscious, she shook her head as she stared at the mattress, still bare without any bedding on it.

"Why not? You can have that lovely bath all to yourself."

The idea obviously sounded tempting, but she still bit her lip in worry. "This was your place, though, with your wife."

The woman she wasn't, she seemed to be saying. Pete sighed. "Look, Jackie, I've not lived in this room in...a while, long before my wife died. It hasn't been 'my' room. And it's nice. Got a good bed. Gives you plenty of space."

More than she had in her tiny council estate flat, that was for sure. Perhaps in the end that was what convinced her as she finally acquiesced. She sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, before sinking into it with an appreciative sigh. "Oh, that is nice."

"Told you," he smiled. "I'll see if we can dig up some sheets for it."

"Take an army to make this," she muttered as she flopped back. "A girl could get used to this."

"Well, get used to it. This is your home for now. Enjoy it!"

"I'll be enjoying that bath," she called as he turned from the door. Down the hall somewhere he could hear Rose and Mickey talking. He thought he could hear Rose laughing, truly laughing, at some story from her friend. Perhaps he didn't feel comfortable in his own home, but at least the pair of them could find some joy in it.


	27. Chapter 27

The news of Jackie Tyler's return to the world of the living broke with all of the shock and awe of bad, telly soap opera. The press began eating it up. Immediately the tabloid papers and shows began staking out Pete's London home and his offices at Vitex, while down the road, security kept a tight reign on who was and wasn't allowed near the Tyler mansion. Not that this stopped them, as three photographers had been caught on the edge of the grounds trying to sneak in a back way, while overhead there was the occasional hum of helicopter wings beating against the gloomy, gray spring sky. Rose and Jackie stood in the upstairs sitting room watching one such meander past through the gauze of the curtains, Jackie utterly fascinated, Rose mildly frustrated.

"I put a call into the President's office to see if they can get them to lay off," Pete called casually as he strolled into the room, helping himself to the coffee Jackie had brewed and eyed the fry up she'd managed for breakfast. "This the pork sausage then?"

Jackie appeared only to half hear him as she continued to stare out of the window. "I guess, it's whatever was in the fridge. There's cereal down there if you'd like."

"This is marvelous," he replied, happily snagging a link to gnosh on as he wandered over to where they stood. "They still going at it?"

"It's been three hours. Woke me up." Rose grimaced as she turned, coffee mug in hand. "Seriously, think they would have better things to do than to stare at the back garden all day hoping we come out."

"This lot? Not really." Pete sighed, recalling all too many unpleasant run ins with the paparazzi over the years. "Once had them sit outside the men's loo at a football match just to get a glimpse of me adjusting my fly."

"All this because they think I'm your dead wife?" Jackie marveled out loud, clearly puzzled by all the reaction. She knew, of course, on a fundamental level his wife had been more than just a celebrity wife. She'd been her own sort of star, loved by the public, perhaps far more than he was for all that he was known for selling vitamin water. But when faced by the reality, Jackie simply couldn't wrap her head around it.

"Well, you have to admit, not every day a woman comes back from the dead. I mean, you, Lazarus and Jesus, sort of makes you famous."

Jackie at least snorted, turning to smack him lightly on the arm. "It all just seems ridiculous, you know. Being famous for something I didn't do."

"I'm famous for making fizzy drinks and calling them health tonics. Didn't say the public wasn't mad." He laughed as he wandered back to the coffee table spread with breakfast. Rose had curled up on the damask covered couch, lost in thoughts all in her own world. He studied her as he helped himself to eggs and toast, worried about the frown he saw creasing her brow as she drew a finger around the rim of her coffee cup.

"You all right there?" Already he was beginning to read Rose's moods. Not nearly as forthcoming as Jackie, she still had some of the same tells her mother did when she was worried, like the crease just above the bridge of her nose and the way she nibbled on the corner of her lip. The quiet, however, was more like him. And that was what worried him the most.

She shook herself at his question, slapping up a smile that didn't quite reach her warm, brown eyes. "Yeah, just thinking this is madness. I mean, helicopters stalking the grounds?"

"More than that, but yeah." Pete had known it would be insanity the minute the story broke. He was so used to this silly type of things that it hadn't occurred to him how strange it would be for Jackie and her daughter. His world was alien enough, now this.

"How bad will it get?"

Pete considered, chewing slowly on toast as he perused the table for jam. "Well, I imagine it will be the hot, sensational story for the next few weeks and then someone will get drunk and embarrass them self in public and it will die down for a bit."

"And what are they saying out there about it? About me and my Mum?"

That was really what was bugging her then? Pete sighed. There was no avoiding it, really. All he could do was have Miles and the PR team try to put a story out there, but once it took off, it had a life of its own. Already there were reports speculating about the validity of the story, about the truth of what happened to Jackie, but most especially they sensationalized the story about the beautiful young woman claiming to be Pete and Jackie Tyler's long lost daughter. Who was she? Was she who she claimed to be, or was it part of some conspiracy, some plot, someone trying to hoodwink good, old Pete? He had seen the headlines calling Rose everything from a mystery to a fortune hunter. And as much as he was trying to shield the pair of them, he knew Rose had seen them too.

"We put the story out there about you being raised by others," he deflected casually, finishing his toast and reaching for another. "Torchwood dug up some 'cousins' who raised you when Jacks and I were so poor, and we've put out the story we allowed them to bring you up to give you a stable home away from all the cameras and publicity."

"Wonderful!" Rose snorted, running and agitated hand through her hair as she flopped back on the fine fabric. "Makes you and Mum sound like the most selfish parents ever."

"Well, yeah. But then again, it's a story. You know it, she knows it, I know it. And you know your Mum was far from that."

"It's not the point, is it?" She glowered at nothing in particular on the ceiling. "And then they say I'm an imposter, in it for the money."

"You knew that was going to come, though, people speculating. I mean it is a mad story."

"Still," she muttered, balancing her empty cup on her stomach. "I mean, I don't care about that, you know."

"I know," he assured her, but it didn't soothe her as she restlessly threw herself up again, setting her cup on the table.

"I mean, I don't care about your money or any of it. The mansion is nice, but so far all we've been is prisoners in it. What's something posh if I can't go nowhere because people are storming about trying to get my picture?"

Jackie turned from the window, watching her daughter in concern as Rose continued. 

"I mean, it's not that I'm not grateful and all, it's just...I wouldn't be here if I'd held on for just a few seconds more." Her words cracked at the end, fraying, as she cleared her throat roughly and suddenly became rather fixated on her manicured nails. "I mean, I didn't want to be here. I'm not here to live off someone else, or steal your money. I just wanted to…"

She trailed off, quietly, ducking her head as Pete politely pretended he didn't see her wiping at her cheeks. She rose, squaring her shoulders and pretended that tears didn't continue to trail down her face as she attempted a wobbly smile. "Maybe I will go for a run for a bit, yeah. Down in the work-out room downstairs, nice indoor track, take my mind off things."

With that she rushed out, her trainers squeaking on the hardwood. Pete watched her go, a mouthful of toast still uneaten in his surprise. He looked to Jackie as to what to do.

"Leave her," she murmured, heartbreak clear on her face as she sighed. "She'll be fine. Just is hard for her."

Pete could only nod. "I knew they'd get ugly out there, but I didn't think about how she'd take it."

"Yeah. Guess it's hard to know." Jackie moved to the seat Rose vacated, refilling her own cup of coffee as she glanced in the direction her daughter went. "Never knew her to like exercise much as a kid. Now she seems to like that running. Seems to be all she wants to do now."

Pete had a feeling Jackie wasn't just talking about Rose on the indoor track downstairs. "Bit like me, I guess. I never liked being still either."

"I remember." She smiled, sadly. "I don't know. I thought, once she'd been here for a bit, she'd get used to the idea, right? I mean, yeah, it's not seeing the universe, or crazy aliens, or hanging with Napoleon, but we could be together. A proper family for once."

A proper family. The idea gave Pete pause as he stared at Jackie across the table. She flushed under his scrutiny, realizing only then what she had said, beginning to stammer as she fiddled with her cup. "I mean, it's the first time in her life there's been a Pete. And while you aren't her father, I mean, you're as good as. She could get to know you."

Pete was still stuck on the idea of a "proper family". The last three weeks had been lost in a whirlwind of simply trying to find a place for Jackie and her daughter to fit in this world. He hadn't had time to consider where they would go from there. What role would Jackie and Rose play in Pete Tyler's life now they seemed to have a permanent place in it?

"What do you want to do, Jackie?" The question tumbled out before he could even check it. It surprised him and clearly her as well, as she blinked at him, slightly stunned.

"What do you mean by that?"

Pete shrugged. "I mean, now that the world thinks you are Jackie Tyler, which you are, what do you want to do?"

Unsurprisingly, she didn't seem to have much of an answer for that. "I don't know. I mean, back home I just tried to make due. Did hair, mostly, odd jobs here and there, nothing fancy."

"You never had any grand ambition to be anything? Do anything?"

"Me? No, not really." The idea seemed to puzzle her, even as she shrugged sadly. "I mean, maybe when I was a kid, I wanted to do one of those silly things like get on TV or be famous, but more than anything I just wanted to be...safe."

Safe. It was a word that had so much meaning for Jackie. His wife had been that way too, once. It was why she'd always harped on things like money and steady work, because underneath it all lay that fear of what could happen if they weren't there. Pete, more footloose and carefree in his youth, hadn't ever thought of those things. That had always been the tension between the two of them.

"Well, you are as safe as you are ever going to be, now." He smiled broadly, waving a hand around the large room. "Nice place. Can even decorate it if you want."

"You mean you'd let me do that?"

"If you are here, might as well. I mean, not like I'm doing a lot with the place as is. And it could use a bit of a facelift after everything."

She eyed the furniture briefly before shooting him a grin. "I hate to say it, and I don't like speaking ill of the dead, but your wife had piss poor taste."

At a different point in time Pete might have bristled from a comment like that from anyone other than Miles. But something about this being Jackie, the woman his wife might have become had circumstances been different, made the comment hysterically funny. Tears formed as he laughed, nearly choking on toast and coffee, a full belly guffaw that left Jackie slightly concerned and Pete snickering harder every time he looked at her.

"It's just...you are here and you're not, and the furniture!" He continued into a fresh peel of laughter, holding his side with one hand as he wiped at his face with the other. "I've always hated this blasted furniture."

Jackie could only stare at him as if he'd gone barking. "Well, it's all pretentious and stuff. Not homey. Couldn't feel comfortable here."

That only served to make Pete howl all the harder.

"I don't see what's so funny." Jackie frowned, disgruntled. "It's true! You don't even like living in this place."

That served to sober him up, if only just. He still giggled, rubbing at his eyes, his sides aching. "I know! I never liked it here. Hated the place."

"Then why you laughing at me?"

"I'm not, Jacks, really I'm not." He snorted, trying to breath again. "It's just...oh lord, it's so mad. Like everything that I wished my wife Jackie to be, there you are."

"Oh!" Jackie looked far less put out with that comment. Blushing, she smiled softly. "I guess that's good?"

"Good, it's bloody brilliant." He was getting carried away, he knew it. Perhaps the months of stress with the hole between worlds coupled with the absurdity of the last few weeks were finally catching up to him. "No pretension, not being caught up in image and yourself, just being honest to goodness you."

"But I am just me, Pete," she replied. "But, I'm also not her."

"No, you're not. You are you...just you. And that's the person I've been looking for for a long time."

Pete hadn't realized what he said till the words had already left his mouth. They seemed to hang there in the air between himself and the stunned Jackie, as if waiting for him to take them back. Except, he found, he really didn't want to.

"I…" Jackie opened her mouth, but stopped, stared at him, blue eyes round in a face suddenly pale. She closed her mouth with a snap.

That was when the regret set in.

"Jacks," he began, but even as he spoke, she pushed herself up, in a gesture that nearly mirrored Rose's earlier.

"Look, Pete, I don't...I can't...I know you miss your wife, and I miss my Pete, and all of this just sort of happened, but I'm not some substitute for a dead woman."

"Jackie, you aren't…"

"I have her face, don't I? And now I have her life and her house?" She waved a wild hand in the direction of the helicopter still circling outside. "I'm me, Pete! I've had a whole life, and it hasn't been filled with silks and ugly furniture, and...I'm not just stepping in because you're lonely."

"I didn't intend for you to…"

"And another thing, I mean it's nice and all you are helping Rose and I out, but don't think that means you get to assume anything about me and...us."

"I wasn't assuming anything."

Jackie paused in her tirade, eyes narrowed. "You aren't?"

He shouldn't have said anything, he really shouldn't have. Regret turned his stomach. "I just...I know who you are, Jackie. And I wasn't presuming on...I don't need a replacement for my wife. I really don't. I loved her, yes, I did. But who she was at the end, that person, I don't want in my life."

She wasn't convinced. "You can't tell me that you haven't missed her every day for the last few years. I know I missed my Pete."

"I did, I won't lie. Do you think I was happy letting her die. I loved her, but…"

When Pete admitted it to himself, who he missed and what he missed was the "what might have been". He missed the Jackie before Torchwood and Vitex, before wealth and fame. He missed what they could have been if it all had been different. He wanted a chance to have that Jackie. "You can't tell me that there are days you wish you had your Pete back. Not the gormless dreamer you married, though, one who actually took up his responsibilities."

"My Pete was a good man," Jackie retorted with surprising anger. "He wasn't perfect, but he wasn't gormless either."

Pete would have argued. He remembered all too well what he was like back then. "Fine, he wasn't. The point is, this is a new chance, for both of us, Jacks. Maybe this time, with us having gone through different experiences, different things, maybe...maybe this time things will be better?"

"A do over?" She sneered the word, crossing arms around herself. "That's what I am then? A do over for how you got it wrong with your Jackie?"

That wasn't the reaction he'd expected at all.

"Jackie, not really, but maybe a second chance…"

"Look, I am grateful for all you are doing, yeah? But I'm not some fill in for a woman long dead. I'm me and you're you, and we aren't our dead spouses, and I'm not throwing myself into anything just because I miss my Pete."

Too surprised by the vehemence of her words, all Pete could do was watch her stalk out of the room and down the hall. Where, he wasn't sure. He tried to call for her but found his words failed as he fiddled with the toast in hand. His appetite was already gone. He tossed it on the plate and considered the lot. Pity he hadn't asked for at least one staff member to clean up at moments like this. Perhaps they could clean up his life too. Hell, how did he bollocks that one up so quickly. Three weeks in and he'd managed only in further upsetting Rose and alienating Jackie. And now, according to the world, she was his wife. If he were going to recreate the situation as it was when his wife died, he was spot on. But he had hoped…

He hadn't really considered what Jackie might have wanted in all this, had he?

"Well, bloody hell," he muttered, glaring out the window to the helicopter still hovering, beating incessantly against the sky, echoing the slow pounding forming behind his eyes.


	28. Chapter 28

"I was thinking that I want to join Torchwood."

Rose's declaration, made from the door of the kitchen's dining area, arrived with all the warning of a bomb attack. It crashed and exploded on Pete as he blinked up from his tablet, where he'd been working the last hour on some Vitex board report.

"Excuse me?" He blinked owlishly over his reading glasses at her as she leaned against the doorjamb, chin tilted in that defiant expression that promised she had already made up her mind and him trying to reason it out likely would do no good.

"Torchwood. I want to join as an operative."

He set down the tablet, frowning as he tried to understand. "Where did this come from, may I ask?"

"What? I've been helping Mickey out for the last couple of weeks, at least since before this story broke and I've been cooped up here."

Pete pursed his lips hard together as he regarded his new daughter. "Is that what this is about? You're bored and want something to do?"

"No," she replied, though not completely with conviction. "I was thinking on it before. I mean, before we came out here."

"Sit down," he offered, waving at one of the elegant chairs. Rose immediately plopped down, arms crossed in determination. Clearly, she'd already prepared for battle with him on the matter.

"So might I ask what brought it up?"

"Just, you know, working with Mickey and Jake on it." She shrugged mildly. "I know Mickey fell into it when he stayed over here. And look at him, he's done all right."

"And you think you can just fall into it and do all right?"

Rose's nose wrinkled in annoyance, eyes blazing. "Look, when you can face Daleks and Sycorax, and having your face pulled off and stuck inside a telly, and you know, maybe fighting Satan himself, then you can tell me whether or not I've got experience enough to handle what you deal with at Torchwood. Mickey hasn't seen half the stuff I have."

Pete couldn't only stare at her as she listed off adventures he had never heard of and he wasn't sure he wanted to, realizing that unfortunately, she had a point. Rose had seen and done things that most Torchwood agents hadn't dealt with. He wondered if her mother even knew half of it. "I'm not doubting your experience, Rose, but what we do at Torchwood is dangerous. And there's no Doctor here to bail you out should you get in over your head."

"Don't you think I know that," she fairly growled, petulant as she glared across the table at him. "You know, Mum may assume I'm a kid, but I expected more out of you."

"Don't go playing your Mum and I against each other," he snapped, surprised she was lowering herself to that sort of tactic in an argument this key to her future. "This isn't primary school and you aren't a child, as you just said. Besides, I know you haven't even told her about this yet."

That bit of insight surprised her. "How do you know that?"

"She'd be screaming across the house if you dropped it on her," Pete observed wryly earning at least a hint of a smile from the girl. "You came to me first. Why?"

"Because, if I joined I'd be working for you. Seems I should ask my future boss first."

"Miles would be your boss, not me."

"He said I had to ask you."

So that was how it was. Miles had given his tacit approval. He wasn't so sure he was pleased with his director for that, but he couldn't yell at him. Miles was free to hire whatever personnel he saw fit. "He wanted you?"

"Said I'd be good at it, better than Mickey even. Besides, I think he understands a bit, all of this."

Pete didn't need to ask what "this" was. The heartbreak that surrounded his daughter hung on her sleeves like a cloak. Still, he wasn't positive throwing herself into something so dangerous was the healthiest response. "Rose, I know being cooped up here at the mansion isn't your cup of tea. I know you are used to a life more...active. But, if you'd like, I could arrange for something else. Maybe let you tour the world or something. Give you a chance to explore this new place."

"No." She smiled, still determined, but the fire had gone out of her. It was replaced by infinite sadness. "I mean, it's a nice gesture and all, but the idea of travel by myself doesn't sound as good as you might think."

No, Pete sighed, he supposed it wouldn't, not after traveling the universe with a mad alien.

"Besides, I'd rather be doing some good. I have experience. I can do good at Torchwood, if you let me."

Before he could say anything further either positive or negative, the sound of breaking pottery crashed and skittered across tile flooring, as they both turned to see an outraged Jackie staring at them both.

"You...you want to go to Torchwood?"

"Mum," Rose began, turning pale as milk before flushing guilty at her mother.

"Not even been here a month and you are already wanting to go do something else to get yourself killed?"

"Mum, it's not like that. It's just a job."

"A job? If you wanted a job, there's plenty of those around not at Torchwood. Besides, not like you need money."

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is? You going off and running around doing something dangerous? Thought you got enough of that with the Doctor? What, he's not around no more, so you want to go get yourself killed good and proper without him?"

"You always assume I'm going to get myself killed at everything and I haven't yet!"

"But by the grace of God, that's for sure."

"Oh, shut it, Mum, you've not been to a church since your cousin's last wedding."

"And don't think I haven't said a prayer or two while you've been gallivanting across God knows where, doing God knows what. And now just when we get somewhere safe, where we can have some peace and live normal lives, now you want to go do something stupid again?"

Pete could only stare helplessly watching the tableau between mother and daughter as something in his gut churned at the unnerving familiarity of it all. He'd had these arguments with his Jackie himself once before. Unlike Pete when he was younger, however, Rose seemed more than capable of handling herself. She pushed away from the table so hard the chair tipped, and though she was just Jackie's height, in her anger she seemed to tower over her mother as something hard and feral flashed in her amber eyes.

"Stupid? Was it stupid the times I helped save the world? Was it stupid when I kept people from dying, Mum? Do you even know what you're talking about?" Her voice wasn't loud, but it snapped so hard at Jackie the other woman reared back as if she'd been struck, eyes wide. "Yeah, the times I stood by his side and saved so many and it felt good to know I was doing something more and bigger with my life than just sitting around, waiting for another day to turn because I was safe and sound in my little bed. I wanted more than that, always did want more than that, and all you ever cared about was that I was there to chatter about your stupid telly and gossip mags. But that's not what I want with my life, Mum, and it never was. What I wanted…"

Here she paused, the anger deflating to something sad and broken. "I can't have what I wanted. But I can do this. And I know it. It's what I'm good at. You may be happy having this life, Mum, but it wasn't what I wanted. It never was what I wanted. And I'm sorry, but I'm an adult, and I've been for a while. And I need to do what is right."

And without any further explanation, Rose turned on her trainer clad heels and stalked back out of the kitchen almost as suddenly as she arrived. Pete stared in silence, regarding her absence briefly, before turning to Jackie. She stood at the island that served as the breaking point between the large, modern kitchen and the area where he sat with his work things spread.

"Jacks," he murmured as she turned to him, eyes filled with tears.

"You can't let her, Pete."

"What am I going to do? Tell her no?"

"You're her father now. Do what you should've done in my world."

"What? Stop her from going with the Doctor?"

Jackie bit her lip, shoulders dropping in frustration. "You know she could get herself killed."

"She could do that crossing the street or taking a zeppelin."

"You're just going to let her do this?"

"What choice do I have, Jackie? She's talked to Miles. He wants her on the team, and she's right. She's got the experience, loads more than Mickey did, and she'd be invaluable with her knowledge."

"So that's all she is to you, some sort of encyclopedia of stuff the Doctor knew?"

"No," he barked back, his temper rising now just as Rose's had. "What I am saying is that she came to me as an adult. She made this decision on her own. She isn't some child who you can order to her room for mouthing off."

"Oh, so you are just going to let your daughter get herself killed."

"She's technically not my daughter."

"That's not what the press out there believes," she snapped, flinging an arm towards the window, charging him with all the bluster of an angry, mother bear. "She's my daughter, Pete, she's all I got in this world. If I lose her, what will I have?"

"Me," he said simply, trying to hide how much her words cut at him. "You'd have me, Jacks, even if everything else fell away."

Her puffed up ire deflated at that statement, her blue eyes wide in a face suddenly slack. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are going on about Rose and her dying, as if you expect that is inevitable,and I don't think it is. She's tough, Rose, she's been through far worse things. And she's made it. But even if she did get herself killed, Jackie, you aren't alone anymore. You have me. I am here. And yeah, I know I died in your world and you've been doing this alone. I know that scared you. But you aren't alone anymore."

He had wanted to say that yesterday when she ran out on him, to reassure her. She hadn't been willing to listen then. Carefully, he reached for one of her hands, trying to manage his "trust me" smile. "I'm here, Jacqueline Tyler, and I won't let you go."

He wasn't sure what he had been hoping for. Perhaps a laugh, perhaps she'd throw herself at him like she did the first night they'd met so long ago. What he hadn't expected was the panic that rose as she wrenched her fingers from his.

"I can't," she fairly cried, tears now dribbling down her face as she shook her head so violently strands of blonde hair flew out of the clip she'd had it up in. "I can't do this, I can't…"

With no further explanation she fled as well. Pete stood, for the second time in two days, nursing what was left of his dignity and wounded heart. He hadn't meant to send her running, just to reassure her. What the hell had he said?

It was some time before he gathered his pride together enough to regard the remains of his work scattered on the table. There was no finishing board reports that day, he'd be buggered if he could concentrate on anything that wasn't a stiff drink at the moment. Heaving a sigh, he gathered his things, wandering past the veranda towards the family part of the house. The door stood open, a warming breeze promising summer soon. Sitting on one of the unbound chairs with her feet propped on the brick wall at the edge sat Rose, watching the spring clouds aimlessly. He stood watching her, her eyes closed. He'd just resolved to leave her to her peace when she spoke.

"Mum gave you hell, did she?"

Pete smiled tightly. "Yeah, a little. Not the first time I've had to deal with an irate Jackie Tyler."

"Sorry," she murmured, squinting up at him in the bright sunshine. He shrugged, shuffling to the brick wall she had her feet on, settling himself on the edge, laying his things aside. She watched him silently as he searched for words. He'd never done this father thing before.

"You're mother...worries." Perhaps the most inadequate understatement of the year, he chided himself.

Clearly Rose felt the same as she snorted. "Mum's worried? Maybe about herself, yeah?"

"She worries about you, you know that."

"Really?" She pulled herself up in the chair, elbows propped on the metal arms as her feet met the ground. "When I was seven I won a medal in tumbling. Nothing big, right, just a stupid little medal doing gymnastics. A couple months later, I took a bit of a tumble off a beam and she made me quit. Said it was too dangerous and we couldn't afford it if I broke something. When I was twelve, I wanted a new bike. Couldn't afford it, but you know that Christmas one appeared right in front of my Christmas tree. Didn't know it then, but it was the Doctor who done it. It was the best thing I'd ever gotten, you know. Let me get out of the neighborhood a bit, to go places, without her. Took me a month of wheedling and a solemn promise never to go across the river before she'd let me ride it."

"Sounds like any other mother I know of," Pete tried to gently point out, but Rose shook her head.

"Yeah, well it only got worse the older I got. I wanted to do A levels, go to uni. She whined that I didn't need to go to uni, was smart enough, could get a job and stay in the neighborhood. Just like her, I guess. She'd date any old thing that came across and showed her attention, go out and get pissed with her friends and come home to me just expecting me to want to do that too. Little wonder when Jimmy Stone, the great git, showed up and wanted to take me with him I went. Anything to just get away."

Sadly, Rose sighed, picking at her fingers and avoiding Pete's gaze. "Jimmy was one of the more stupid things I'd done, and she told me, over and over again. But I got on my feet again, I paid off my debts, got a job, was doing all right. But it was just the same old. Mum was there, doing not much of anything, no dreams of doing anything, and all I could see was that I would be stuck, just like her someday. Taking the bus into a shop in town, never doing more with my life than watching telly and going to the pub and growing old and dying like that. Doesn't that sound horrible?"

"Yeah," Pete admitted. "I was like that once, too. Wishing I could be something more than just ordinary."

"I know." She looked up at him, smiling tightly. "Mum never got that. She never understood. I mean, I've been carrying on as if she was awful. She wasn't. I mean, she was there for me. She took care of me, I always had clothes and food. And yeah, I hated most of the men she dated, but I always came first for her. She always, always loved me. But she never got it. She just wanted to keep me wrapped up and safe away, so I wouldn't leave her."

"Just like I left her," Pete asked, posing the question with a dry, sad smile.

"It wasn't you, it was our Pete. And he didn't leave, he was killed."

"Sometimes, when you are hurting, it's hard to tell the difference. I know with my wife, I couldn't. She'd left me, or really, I'd left her by the time she died. But there were days when it felt like she'd just walked away."

"But she didn't. And neither did my Dad. He died saving us...all of us." Tears welled in her amber eyes, ones Pete pretended to ignore as she used a knuckle to wipe them away.

"Yeah," Pete let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Must have hurt your Mum a lot, then, watching her husband die in the middle of the street. Left alone with a baby to take care of, not having worked a full job in her life, wondering how she was going to pay rent and buy food. And what if something happened to you, the only thing of her husband she had left. What if you died and she wasn't there? What would she do then?"

Rose blanched at the very idea. "I know I was all Mum had, but still…"

"That's right, you were all your Mum had. Small wonder she was so terrified that you'd die somewhere. She'd already lost enough, how do you think she'd feel if she lost you on top of it all."

Rose clearly hadn't considered that. And Pete didn't blame her. The young very rarely considered their own mortality. "But she can't keep me safe from everything and everyone forever."

"I know. She can't. I'm just saying, that's where she's coming from."

"So, what, you going to keep me from Torchwood, just to make her happy?"

Pete shrugged. "You think it would do me any good?"

That at least earned a toothy smile from Rose as she laughed. "Probably not."

"I'll set up some time with Miles tomorrow. We will see if we can smuggle you past the line of cameras down the way."

Rose squealed in delight, throwing herself at Pete, nearly tipping him backwards to the lawn as he wrapped his arms around the flurry of blonde hair and jacket. For the briefest of moments his heart swelled, just a little, at the idea of doing something so very fatherly. Perhaps his hug was a bit tighter before he let her go, pulling as stern a look as he could manage.

"If you do this, you'll be treated just like Mickey and Jake were. You've got to train, pass the tests, and you can't just ride the coattails of being Pete Tyler's daughter."

"Wouldn't expect otherwise," she smiled cheekily. "And if they let Mickey, the great lump, in there then I should be a success."

Pete hoped so. But then, in all fairness, Torchwood had let him in years ago, more of a mess than even Mickey, and he'd done all right. "You're Mum is still not going to be happy."

"I know. But she wasn't happy when I left with the Doctor, either." Though she waved it off, he could see the guilt and concern there, hidden behind her excited bravado.

"Let me be the one to break it to her. At least she can be angry at me. Seems to be what she's good at."

He hadn't meant to leak that much of his disgruntlement, but there it was. Rose could only sigh knowingly and smile sympathetically. "All this, it's hard for her, too. You see how she is with anything new or scary."

"Guess we both need to be patient?"

"Good luck, mate," she snorted, patting his cheek affectionately. "Tell me how that works for you."

"Thanks," he muttered, and wondered if those would be his famous, last words in regards to Jackie Tyler.


	29. Chapter 29

It was hours later when he happened upon Jackie. She was in the upstairs lounge, television on, watching something mindless enough that she was paying little attention to it. Her gaze seemed to be focused somewhere in the dusky evening, watching the sky turn a pearl color. Pete cleared his throat as he entered, earning her attention as she turned towards him.

"Wondered where you'd gotten to." He leaned against the back of the couch. "House is big, but not that big."

"Went off for a bit of a wander," she admitted absently, shrugging. "Found the wine cellar. Didn't know you had one of those. Great big casks of the stuff."

"Surprised you didn't help yourself," he teased. She didn't laugh.

"Needed to think," was all she said as she turned again to the telly she wasn't watching.

"Ahh," he murmured, saying no more. Silence grew between them as an advert droned inanely from the telly, something about biscuits or tea, he couldn't care less. He didn't like it, this quiet from Jackie. That was one of the few of the things he'd learned quickly about this woman, she rarely stayed quiet, and if she did she was either sleeping or dead. Since she was neither, her stoney silence unnerved him. He decided to take the proverbial bull by the horns.

"Chatted with Rose about Torchwood." He was matter-of-fact about it. No reason to beat about the bush. "I'm arranging for her to go in tomorrow, meet with Miles. Told her she'd get no favors just because she's now my daughter. Made that clear. We'll see how she does."

Jackie didn't so much as flinch or shrug. He might as well have said nothing. Pete bit back a swell of irritation as he continued. "Might be good for her. I think she has needed something to ground her a bit."

Not even that observation elicited a response. He sighed. "She's not doing this to spite you, you know. It's her nature. She's been cooped up at my place in London so as not to show her face, now out here for a week. Think it's been the longest she's been tied down to anywhere in forever. Anyway, anything to make her happy, I guess, give her purpose. Know something about that, myself."

He trailed off. Jackie still hadn't even looked at him, not in anger, not in defiance, nothing. Pete's jaw worked against angry retorts. This wasn't his first wife. This was a different woman. And if he wanted her in his life, he had to treat her as such.

"Thought you'd like to know." He didn't know what to say further. Sensing the dismissal from her, he meant to leave her with her trash telly and her anger, but a sad, soft murmur stopped him.

"You know, I saw him die."

He stopped, turning to look at her. She was still staring at the telly, but he didn't think she was watching it. "I know."

"It was Rose what held his hand while he died. Grown up Rose, I mean. Time travel mixes it all up." She sniffed, half turning over her shoulder towards him. "You know what I'd been yelling at him about all day? How he still didn't have a job and how he was flirting with women and brought one to church. My own daughter, only I didn't know it. All I could think about was how was I supposed to pay the rent and take care of our daughter while he was out frittering it away on health tonics and whores."

Pete didn't know what to say. He hadn't lived that moment, didn't know that argument, but he knew many like it. "Like as not, he probably deserved it, judging from past experience."

Jackie finally turned, something of a laugh choking past tears. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I was just an idiot so caught up in being scared about what might happen I wasn't noticing the good thing right in front of me."

"Could be that, too." He wandered back slowly to the couch, shoving hands into his trouser pockets as he went. "I mean, you always overreacted, can't help yourself."

"Shut it," she sniffed, chuckling past tears. "It's always been so easy for you, you know. You and Rose, you are cut out of the same cloth, you are. She's always been more like you than me. Couldn't keep her off roofs or away from prats, she'd run head first into any old thing. And she'd come home scraped up or broken-hearted and it was just me there, all by myself. Trying to put my daughter back together. And no sooner I'd patch her up then she'd do something else mad."

"Well, if she is my daughter, she comes by it honestly. Genetics."

Jackie only rolled her eyes. "She's more you than me. She can draw, She's smart. She wanted to see everything, do everything. I was so scared when she disappeared with the Doctor. And when she came back like nothing happened, I was so angry with her. Didn't even have the decency to tell me the truth! Not at first, anyway. Sound like someone you know?"

Pete only felt partially guilty for that. "Don't know what you are talking about."

"Right." She snorted. "Then she barely survives some other mad adventure with him, and if you please, she packs her bags and runs off with him somewhere else. Ten seconds, she says, I'll be back in ten seconds. I don't see her for months. And all the while I'm mad because she's run off and left me. She's off seeing the universe and doing things and living a life, and where does that leave me?"

Tearful blue eyes looked up at Pete through thick mascara. "How awful of a mother does that make me sound, huh? But it's true. After you died, all I had was her. All I did was for her. I mean, yeah, I'd go out with the girls, go to the pub, but at the end of the day, it was always Rose. And when she left, I just didn't have anything."

And now the truth came out. Pete didn't know what to say. In so many ways it was so different from his wife, who'd had too many things going on beyond herself and no time for him or their relationship. He sighed, rounding the couch, gently settling beside her as he carefully chose his words. "Doesn't make you an awful mother, Jacks. Just makes you a normal one, I think. All parents have problems letting their kids go. And so maybe you hold on a little tighter. Doesn't make you horrible."

"I don't know. Small wonder she ran away with the Doctor. If nothing else, she had to get away from me."

"But she always came home, right?" Pete wasn't about to allow Jackie to wallow too much in her sorrows. He gently nudged her trainer with the point of his wing tips, trying to lift her mood. "Rose loves you. At the end of the day, that won't change."

Jackie didn't looked as convinced. "How awful did I sound down there?"

"Well, a bit on the hoyden side, but not so bad. I think she'll forgive you."

"She usually does." Jackie replied, sadly. "That's you, too. Always putting up with me."

"I think it goes both ways, Jacks." Gingerly, he reached across the space between them to take her hand. "I wasn't a picnic to live with on a lot of levels, even when I did get rich."

"I can imagine." She didn't move her fingers from his grasp. In fact she kept them there, squeezing gently. They were warm and slim and felt so very good there. "Just, promise me you'll keep an eye on her when she's at Torchwood. I mean, I know, you can't stop her from doing anything if she gets a mind to do it, but just make sure she doesn't do anything too mad."

"I'll do my best," he reassured her. On impulse he lifted their joined hands, brushing her knuckles gently against his lips. He wasn't sure why he did it, perhaps out of a long remembered habit, the gesture of reassurance he had with his wife. It was only when he felt her stiffen beside him that he realized really what he'd done. She met his wide eyes evenly, just as shocked as he was. An apology was trying to bubble to life in his brain, attempting to formulate enough to be stuttered in utter and profuse embarrassment. Something about not thinking and not meaning to push her and please forgive him. But before he could even manage to flush hotly or even drop her hand and pull away, she threw herself at him, wrapping arms around his neck as she kissed him so fiercely it took what remaining breath he had away.

Frankly, he was too stunned to do much else but go along with it.

Seconds later, or perhaps hours, she pulled away, staring at him with just as much shock as he had her when he'd kissed her hand. Neither of them spoke or dared to breathe for a long, pregnant pause.

"Oh, bloody hell," Pete finally managed, throwing all caution to the wind and pulling Jackie against him. Rough as it was, she didn't complain, as lips met and hands grasped. The telly shouted at them about the mystery that was Jackie Tyler's reappearance, but neither cared. It was long minutes this time before either pulled away, leaving Jackie gasping and Pete breathless.

"That was," Jacked whispered, voice shaky as she panted softly for breath. "Nice!"

He smiled, tentatively, reaching to push a tumble of blonde out of her eyes gently. "Is nice good?"

"Yeah," she nodded, gaze following his fingers as they trailed from behind her ear, down her jawline. "It is very good?"

"Good enough to keep going?" He didn't like the tentative hitch that cracked his voice like he was a seventeen-year-old kid.

"Whose room is closer?"

"Yours," he murmured, leaning over to follow his fingers with his mouth. Jackie shivered and sighed.

"Right, let's get there before this gets too much further."

She didn't seem eager to move. Pete smiled, pulling away to grin at her dazed expression. "You aren't going too fast."

"Shut up and start moving, else I'm not going to."

Giggling and stumbling like teenagers, they finally made it to her room. It had been years for Pete, he had no idea how long it had been for Jackie, though he highly doubted she'd been any celibate. Still, it felt as no time had passed at all, the way they worked, clothes flying while still managing to keep as much contact as possible. Perhaps her body bore the marks of motherhood, perhaps he cared more about his appearance now as a spokesperson and business man than he had when he was younger. Still, in the end it didn't seem to matter. They just fit, the two of them, just as they always had, for all that they were essentially different people. He still knew that particular place just at the crook of her neck that made her groan. She still knew just the perfect way to rock against him that seemed to make everything just that much sweeter. An hour later, they lay in the large bed, limbs entangled, with Jackie's hair loose across Pete's naked chest, her face firmly snuggled there as they both struggled to catch their breath.

"Lord, we aren't kids anymore," she muttered sleepily, snuggling tighter, if possible. Pete rumbled low in his chest, and he could feel her grin against his skin.

"Best workout I've gotten in a while."

"That's a lie, I seen you down in that gym."

He laughed, pulling her up towards him and kissing her soundly. "Best workout you've gotten."

"That's for sure." She smirked, settling her head on his shoulder. "Still, not as bad as that one time in Tommy Mullen's car. You remember that?"

He knew what she was really asking is if it happened in his world, with his wife. It should be a strange statement, and maybe it was the afterglow or the exertion, he just couldn't bring himself to feel weird about it. "Yeah, I remember. In the back seat, had my feet out the window and you hit your head on the roof so hard I thought you'd given yourself a concussion."

"You made me see stars for more than one reason that night," she snickered, tracing a hand down his chest.

"Tommy screamed at the pair of us for ruining his upholstery and smelling up his car."

"Oh, we did nothing and he was always pissing and moaning about that pile of junk."

"Classic, he called it," Pete recalled earning a rather indelicate snort of Jackie.

"If by classic he meant it had cig burns in the leather and you could hear the tranny a mile away, sure." Her arms wound around him tighter at the joy of a shared memory. "Whatever happened to him here, then?"

"Don't know. Lost track of him after things changed."

"Yeah. Same in mine. He disappeared after everything, never heard from him again."

"S'alright. He was a wanker anyway."

The fell into pleased silence, still riding the hormonal high as they cuddled together. Sleep was just tugging at Pete when Jackie's voice floated to him in a rather lazy murmur. "Rose is going to wonder where we are at."

"Don't think she'll worry too much," he replied drowsily. Still, a niggle of guilt rose within him, knowing that he'd just shagged the girl's mother silly. "Do you think she'll mind that we...well…"

He trailed off, uncomfortable with just blurting out that he'd just had sex, as if Rose was standing at the door, listening. This seemed to endear him to Jackie, however, who only looked up at him under her fringe of hair as if he'd cutely dribbled all over himself.

"You plum, it's not like she's not had to deal with me and boyfriends before." She flushed, slightly, realizing what she'd admitted to. "Besides, she at least likes you."

"Well, I guess that's a relief," he replied cheekily, as she swatted his side gently. "I know, I mean, I guess in a way, I'm her father, and perhaps it's not as strange to her."

"No, maybe not."

"She's still going to give me hell, isn't she?"

"She does take after you, like I said."

Pete couldn't bring it in himself to feel worried about that. "Suppose I have it coming to me."

"Pete," Jackie sighed, nuzzling close once again. "Shut it for now, you've gone and knackered me."

"Right," he replied, yawning. He didn't even have time to wonder at the joy it was to have Jackie back in his arms again. He simply drifted off, the sound of Jackie's soft breathing lulling him to sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

Pete waited for the other shoe to drop the next morning at breakfast. Rose appeared, groggy and quietly anxious at the table, oblivious to the furtive looks shot between her mother and Pete. He cleared his throat and quietly busied himself with his tablet, while Jackie bustled to the kitchen.

"Toast, Rose, love?"

Her mother's term of endearment caught the younger woman unaware. She watched Jackie cautiously before nodding, glancing at Pete in consternation. Clearly, while Jackie had moved on from their argument sometime after falling into bed with him last night, Rose had not. Pete's only response was to shrug and return to his tablet, glancing through his emails as he sipped at his coffee and wondered how long he'd be able to dodge Rose's proverbial bullet.

"Toast sounds good." Rose yawned, pouring coffee and fiddling with it as Jackie hustled two browned pieces of bread out to her. If her mother's over attentive behavior struck her as odd, Rose was either not aware enough to notice it or too sleepy yet to comment on it.

"Ready for today?" Pete decided to venture, hoping to defer any untoward attention from the fact that Jackie was very much trying too hard to be casual.

"Sure, I guess." Rose spread strawberry jam across her toast, nibbling at a corner. "Do you know what they will have me do?"

"Show you around the place, have you take some tests, standard protocol. Just to see where your strengths lie."

"Not sure what ones of those I've got." She hummed, sipping from her mug slowly. "I mean, I studied French once, 'cause I was going to go to uni and study art. And I can draw pretty well, fair enough. And I guess I'm not a total idiot. The Doctor always said I was brilliant. But I never got my A-levels, if they want that."

"Since you didn't exist in this world before three weeks ago, I think Torchwood will be flexible. Besides, you're not some girl off the streets. You've seen the universe, like you said, run with the Doctor. You got more things going for you than most."

"True," she murmured, eyes sliding to Jackie who pointedly busied herself with spreading butter as thinly on the toast as she could physically manage. "You going to be all right with this?"

Jackie's lips pressed hard for a long moment before she turned her face up to give her daughter a tight, sad smile. "It's like you said, right? You're grown up. You feel you got to do this, okay. I'll be here, you know, if you need."

The chill that had hung between mother and daughter since yesterday morning seemed to thaw as Rose rounded the table to hug her mother. "It's just to Torchwood, Mum, it will be fine. They let Mickey work there!"

"Oh, and that reassures me, that does." She shooed her daughter away. "You two better get going, you'll be late, and no telling how long those reporters will keep you."

"She's right," Pete sighed, not thrilled with this at all. "I've got an SUV here with darkened windows, but they'll be watching."

"Let them," Rose sniffed, throwing her shoulders back in a show of bravado. "They can say whatever they want. Doesn't make it true."

Pete couldn't help but feel proud of her in that moment. "Good girl. Be in the garage in five."

Snagging the last of her toast, Rose shuffled off to finishing getting ready. Jackie watched her with a wistful smile.

"Hard to remember sometimes she's all grown up. Seems just yesterday she was a baby, all big brown eyes and nothing else."

Pete found himself wishing he could have known Rose back then. "She'll be fine, Jacks. She dead smart and Miles couldn't be more responsible."

"Oh, I know." She waved him off, gathering plates of half eaten breakfast into the kitchen. "And you two will be off all day, what am I to do with myself?"

"I'd tell you clean, but I may earn a slap," he shot back cheekily, grinning as he followed her with his own breakfast things.

"Yeah and you may like it, too," she replied with a naughty wink that instantly made his cheeks flush and his trousers just a tad uncomfortable. Dishes clattered as he pinned Jackie against the counter, mouth brushing the nape of her neck where her hair had been pinned up, earning a squeal out of her.

"Right, you need to be getting ready for work, don't you, and not trying to ravish me in the kitchen?"

"Where in the hell did you learn ravish from," he growled, moving instead from one side of her neck to the other.

"Since I took up reading those trashy novels and don't change the subject." She turned, with effort, to face him and stopped his efforts with a sound kiss on the mouth. When she pulled back, it was with the same stern expression she'd use on Rose. "You've got to get to Torchwood and make sure Rose behaves herself."

"And what if I don't want to behave myself?"

"Save it for tonight, big boy." She patted his cheek and pushed him away. "Look at you, acting randy as a teenager."

Regretfully, he allowed, but not without a heartbroken sigh. "Can't help myself around you, I suppose." He was unapologetic as he leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek, turning to gather his things from the kitchen table. Jackie certainly didn't looked displeased by the attention. If anything, she looked the happiest she'd been since she'd arrived, glowing even. That was the Jackie Tyler he'd really, sorely, horribly missed.

Rose was thirty minutes getting to his car, in the new clothes he'd had Amanda help her procure before the interview. Despite money no longer being an object, Rose still preferred the casual styles of the young and he noted her insistence on the comfortable trainers she had on her feet.

"Not dressing to make an impression on your new boss?"

Rose arched a dark eyebrow as he glanced from the trainer back up to Pete. "Too casual? I got something nicer, I just thought, since Miles knew me…"

"It's fine," He waved it off as he climbed inside the large SUV, eager to be off.

"Just, trainers, easier to run if you need to, you know."

No, Pete didn't know. Everything he'd ever done for Torchwood had been covert, so buttoned up suits and wing tips for him most of the time. The most danger he'd ever seen was that horrible night that Lumic tried to take over the world. Still, she at least had it reasoned out. "I don't know if they'll have you chasing anything on your first day, you know."

"Wasn't thinking about chasing as much as running from." She smirked as he started the car and pulled out of the garage. For half a moment, Pete wondered just what sort of things her and her Doctor got up to that necessitated that sort of preparedness, but decided against asking.

"Right, so we pull out of here, there's likely cameras down the way. They'll shout and generally make a nuisance of themselves, but don't engage. They only want you to do that."

"Know your enemy," Rose murmured, straightening in the seat as Pete pulled out of the gravel drive. The manor house sat back from the main road, down a private, enclosed drive. Security sat at the end and nodded towards him as he slowed, allowing them to open the gate so he could pull out onto the street that lead onto the main thoroughfare that would get them into London.

" _Oi_ , Mr. Tyler! Hey, over here!" Almost as soon as the iron gates closed the calls began, voices that remarkably penetrated through the thick glass of his luxury car and attempted to lure him into eye contact. He grimaced as his eyes remained fixedly on the road. "They'll try to get you to look, usually say rude things. Don't bother with them."

As if on cue, somewhere behind the clamor of voices and the clicking of cameras he could hear someone shouting, "You really Pete's daughter? Not just some mistress?"

He could feel Rose tense beside him, but she didn't turn her head, not they could see her face through the passenger side glass.

"What about reports saying that you're Jackie Tyler's illegitimate child?"

"Jesus," Pete swore quietly, turning despite the throng attempting to mob his car and being carefully pushed back by security. Without any hesitancy he turned, nearly clipping a paparazzi who was too slow and busy attempting to get a shot through the un-darkened front windshield.

"They always like this?" Rose sounded cool and calm, but underneath it all Pete thought he could hear how unnerved she was.

"Only on days that end in 'y,'" he joked, though there wasn't a lot of humor in it. "This is pretty mild for them, but yeah. Welcome to the high life!"

"Yeah, I guess," Rose muttered, not particularly impressed. "Think I preferred being a nobody from the council estate."

"Oh, they'll want to watch every aspect of your life from now on; where you go, who you are with, who you are shagging."

"Like that's any of their business," she snapped angrily as the SUV sped down the way, far from the flashing light bulbs.

"And that's just the stand you take as well. None of their business and they can sod off." Pete spoke from long experience on the matter. Better to say nothing and give them reason to suspect than to open your mouth and confirm it.

Rose quietly considered for long moments as he drove. He thought she'd merely drifted into her own thoughts, but her next statement made him realize just how devious and clever his new daughter could be. "So, is that the statement you going to give them when they ask if you've shagged my mother or not?"

Pete managed at least to keep the car under control - only just. He whipped his shocked expression towards Rose's impish smile, before turning back to the road just in time to avoid having a nasty run in with a hedgerow.

"You figure it out?"

"Wasn't that hard. You two disappeared for all of last night."

Pete nodded, ignoring how warm the cabin of the car had suddenly become. "You okay with this?"

"Mmmm…let's see; my mother is sleeping with my father rather than the grocer down the street, or the butcher, or the guy who delivers papers, or the strange guy she picked up at the pub who has bad breath and no job? My father, who I might add, is one of the richest men in the country, who is on all these adverts, and yet still manages to work for a secret organization that saves the world on the side?"

She made it sound so glamorous. "Did she really sleep with all those men?"

"More than that, but never for long. That bother you?"

"No," he lied. Rose saw through that.

"You were dead in our world. Mum was lonely. Twenty years is a long time."

Far longer than four. "Yeah, it kind of is."

"She never loved any of them, though, not like you. That's the reason none of them stayed."

Oddly enough that did give him some kind of twisted comfort. "It's just, I know how strange this is. I mean, she's not my wife, I'm not her husband or your father, and yet I kind of am. It's so daft, like I found her again, like I got a second chance."

"I don't think that's daft," Rose replied. "I think maybe the universe decided to reward you both for a change."

"Maybe." He wasn't sure he believed in God, or Fate, or any other cosmic entity that did or did not have it in for him. But he'd like to believe that if there was one, that this was some sort of reward.

"All I want is for her to be happy," Rose said. "If you can do that, if you can give her someone else to love and care for, give her something in her life, that would be great."

He knew what she implying. She knew her father's foibles as well as Pete did. He'd failed his Jackie. So had Pete, he'd failed his wife just as surely. This time, though, he would get it right.

"Guess it was bound to happen," he murmured, matter-of-factly.

"Bound to happen? I was shocked it didn't the first week." She snorted in laughter, much to Pete's horror.

"I knew you'd take the mickey out of me."

"Sorry. Had to be done." She didn't sound the least bit apologetic.

The rest of their drive into London was cheerful enough, with Rose mostly inquiring into the differences of Torchwood in this world, the history, and of course what Pete had done with it since the rise and fall of Lumic.

"So you made these jumpers just to get to our world and stop the Cybermen?"

"Took us months to develop, some backwards engineering and use of alien tech, but we got it. Mickey was our guinea pig."

"He agreed to that?" That clearly surprised Rose. "When we were kids I couldn't get him to try curry for years."

"Different when you are trying to save your home and the people you love back there, I guess."

That subdued Rose, who went quiet after that. They made the final part of their journey through London to Torchwood Tower in silence, broken only when Pete pulled into his parking space and was met there by the object of their conversation himself and Jake, who hugged Rose hard as she got out of the car. "Can't believe I'm seeing you again!"

"Me either," she admitted, a megawatt smile pulled on the pair. "You doing all right mucking about with him?"

He hasn't managed to kill me, yet." Jake jerked a thumb at Mickey, who punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Wondered if you'd get over here. Mickey said you were thinking about it."

"Miles said I could if Dad did." She glanced at Pete for reassurance. It was the first time in public she called him "dad" and she didn't even flinch at it.

"He's downstairs dealing with a situation, else he'd be down here to snag you," Jake reassured her.

Pete's interest piqued. "Nothing serious?"

"Nah, just an U-5 that got brought in," Mickey offered, grinning from ear to ear at Rose. "Wait till you see what we've been doing with all the data we've been gathering. Like a giant encyclopedia, only online, and just for Torchwood's use."

"All easily searchable from any network enabled device," Jake added, holding up his wrist. The Torchwood issued tablet watch was the favorite of many young technophiles, though not out on the market just yet. Mickey and Jake both had snagged one for their "covert" work and Pete had long suspected they'd used them to play games with one another. However, Jake's at that very moment was beginning to flash an alarming shade of red.

"Shit," he swore, fingering the face as Mickey did the same, both young men frowning. Pete felt his own pocket buzz at the same time.

"What's up," Rose frowned, confused as Pete pulled out his tablet phone, a text alert scrolling across his screen.

"Lockdown, containment," Jake replied. "I'm guessing the U-5 got out."

"U-5? What's that?"

"Unidentifiable alien, class 5. That's the dangerous class," Mickey filled in, looking to Jake. "You heading down?"

"Yeah!" Jake looked to Pete. "Get her somewhere safe for now. We'll come find you when it's all done."

"What, why?" Rose squawked, but couldn't go after them for Pete grabbing her elbow.

"Come on, coffee shop down the street, shouldn't take too long."

"Seriously, they have a dangerous alien running about the building and you just want to get Starbucks?"

"This is their job, Rose, and they know what they are doing," Pete insisted gently, tugging at her arm.

"We are talking about Mickey, right?"

"Come on," he urged. For half a moment he thought she'd actually follow along quietly. He should have known better. With a quick twist and jerk Rose was free from his grasp, already running in the direction of the other two, well before Pete could turn after her.

"Rose," he shouted, taking off after the streak of blonde hair, regretting that he had chosen to wear his office dress shoes and not comfortable trainers like her. He pounded the pavement and skidded into the marble foyer, nearly slamming into the glass doors as he tried to stop himself. Too late, for despite the general lock down of the building, Rose still managed to slip through a stairwell door, her hair shining as it disappeared down a corner .

"Bloody hell," he swore, gasping as he rushed for the steps himself. Why those stairs were open during a security lock down, he didn't know, but he was grateful as he attempted to take the steps down two at a time to catch up with the girl. "Rose, stop!"

He could hear her trainers, but couldn't see her. He wasn't sure if she knew where she was going, though it was clear that she listened to Mickey and Jake when they said down. If there was an unidentified alien about, they'd be in the holding area in the basement levels. He threw himself down the next set of stairs, his thin, leather soles slipping as he grabbed the handrail and clung with one hand, throwing his other out to stop the his feet from going right out from under him.

"Damn it, Rose," he called. He knew it was futile. Muttering and righting himself, he took the stairs again, one at a time now, but no less quickly, coming to the fifth floor down where the concrete stopped. Torchwood went as far as it could down while sitting next to the Thames. Even then, he could feel the cold of the river in the walls as he stared wildly around. One steel door that should have been locked and no Rose. He tugged, feeling it pop open, an alarm already sounding on the other side. In the middle of the chaos of burning equipment, acrid smoke, and shouting people, stood a giant, purple...well, dragon? It looked like a dragon to Pete, given the sleek head and the fact it was shoot fire out from between razor sharp teeth. And it glared wildly between two squads of Torchwood security, armed with guns bigger than they were. And amidst it all, a lone, blonde woman stood determinedly in between them.

"I said stop!" She ordered it with all the same angry fierceness Jackie might use reprimanding Mickey. Above the lizard-thing, on a deck just behind it, Pete could see Miles, several scientists, his security leader, John Gordon, Mickey and Jake. Of them all, only Mickey and Jake didn't seemed surprised. Mickey even laughed.

"Rose," Pete hissed, finding nothing funny in this. But she ignored him as she carefully approached the alien dragon.

"It's scared," she rebuked angrily, giving the creature a sympathetic look. "You lot waving guns at it is why it keeps firing up the place."

"Who the bloody hell is this?" Gordon was a big, burly man late of The President's Own Marine Corp, no nonsense, tough as nails and pragmatic in the face of whatever was thrown at him. Which is why Miles had hired him as Head of Security at Torchwood. However, he also took a dim view of any life form that wasn't human, and only had marginal respect for those that could speak. Anything else he usually considered little more than lab experiments.

"That is Rose Tyler," Miles replied succinctly, not any more thrilled at her presence on the floor, but at least appearing calm about it. "Can I ask, Tyler, what you're doing down there?"

"Trying to help you out," she replied, as if it were obvious. Pete couldn't help the snort that welled up, but tried to swallow it. "Do you even know what it is?"

"What the bloody hell, Connor, she's a civ on the floor. Get her out of here!"

"Stand down, Gordon," Miles replied evenly.

"That menace nearly barbecued two of my people and burned the hell out of a lab, the hell I'm going to…"

"Do you know what it is, Rose?" Miles cut Gordon off, hard, regarding her below mildly.

"Yeah, it's a _raperna_ ," she replied, stepping again to the creature. No longer hissing and glaring at the Torchwood security around it, it now focused on Rose with deep, sapphire colored eyes, blinking slowly. She smiled hesitantly at it.

"A wha'," Gordon growled, but Rose didn't take her eyes off the creature. Instead, her voice and pitch took on the same tone one might take for a baby or a dog.

"A _raperna_ ", she cooed, scooting closer to one of the silvery talons gripping onto a metal crating bin. "Kind of like a dragon, except it's telepathic. It can feel people's emotions and stuff. When it senses people are a threat, it tends to get a bit hysterical."

The dragon creature seemed to sag a bit at the sound of her voice, lowering its wings as it crooned back at Rose. The sound was a bit like a cross between a bird and an over eager Basset Hound. Rose laughed. "Aren't you the cutest thing?"

"A cute thing that can kill you at the first chance," Gordon spat at Miles, who watched the entire scene thoughtfully. Pete, from his vantage point by the door, could only watch as carefully. Rose reached a hand out to it. 

To the sides, he could hear Torchwood security readying their weapons. Rose whipped around to glare at them, just as the _raperna_ reared back and screeched again, a sound cutting across the air like torn metal. Pete clamped his hands to his ears, as Gordon held his hands up to keep his people at bay.

"Gordon, tell them to bloody stand down already," Miles ordered, glaring at the other man.

"You sure you want some girl handling this?"

"Just do it before you have to explain to Pete Tyler why his daughter was killed on her first day at work."

Gordon's head whipped up, his eyes flashing to Pete as it dawned on him that he was standing in the corner. Working his jaw in an ugly grimace, he waved at security, who immediately lowered weapons and backed off. Nearly as immediately, Rose and the raperna sighed.

"That better," she asked, as the creature crooned once more. Once again she held out her hand, only this time the creature snaked it's neck down to her, carefully nosing her tiny fingers compared to its massive, angular head. It nearly melted as she reached up under its chin and scratched. "Who's a good girl, eh? You are!"

The beast whimpered happily as its pointed tail thumped against the container in contentment.

It was only when Pete decided that the coast was clear that he stepped any closer to Rose. She turned to him, a smile as wide and as brilliant as he'd ever seen splitting her face. "You want to come pet her? She's harmless, mostly."

"Harmless? My people!" Gordon's protest still rang in the space, but Miles clearly had lost his patience.

"Where did you find the creature," he snapped, bringing the man up short. Gordon's scowl deepened.

"She was found in a sewage tunnel in Croydon. Smell to high hell till we hosed her down."

"No wonder she blowing fire, after that," Mickey offered dryly, eyeing the creature as Rose continued to pet it. "Why is it acting like a dog?"

"'Cause they kind of are or at least they were in our universe," Rose supplied. She glanced over at Pete as he sidled up. "You've got to be really happy and friendly, like with dogs. They sense what you are feeling and pick up on stuff. If you are shirty around them, they don't like you."

'Explains Gordon," he smirked, as he reached gingerly to the creature. Like with Rose, it sniffed his outstretched hand, before presenting its chin for rubbing."

"That's her most sensitive spot, sort of like ears and cheeks on cats. She loves it!" Indeed, even as Rose smiled encouragingly at him the creature began to hum, something like a purr.

"So this is someone's pet, then?" Jake asked above, curious, even as Gordon still looked doubtful.

"Might have been, I guess. They are native to this one planet that didn't have any particularly advanced civilization I remember, but then people came there all the time to watch them and snag them to take home. Sort of like bringing home those big, fluffy dogs from China, I guess, people think they are cute and bring them on vacations, only then they get to be too much. Maybe this one was dumped?"

That made Rose sound sad, and indeed, even the creature moaned mournfully.

"Or it could have been someone's pet got loose and lost down here." Miles observed. "We have visitors enough, tourists who come to Earth to see the sites and try the food and lose things left and right. Least it's not a Miropean Neutronian bomb this time. Some drunken student lost that off their key chain once and nearly got us in a war."

There were many, many days when Pete was thankful that Miles was his Director of Field Operations, because these were things he didn't need to know about. The fact the other man was so matter-of-fact about it awed him, as did the way he handled the formidable Gordon.

"Gordon, take your people, get them treated. Send Control down here to get this lovely into a holding area, preferably one where she can fly around a bit. Maybe get some food for her. Do you happen to know what she likes?"

This last question was directed at Rose, who only shrugged. "I don't know, I saw them only once. Like to hunt things, kind of gruesome. Maybe a goat?" She didn't sound too sure.

"Try a goat than, sheep, whatever, see if we can get that pinned down."

Gordon looked as if he knew exactly where he would like to pin a goat. He nodded in affirmation anyway, glaring at Rose as his team began to slip away and file out of the space. Miles watched briefly before turning to look down at Rose.

"You know, disobeying protocol and putting your life in danger usually isn't a great way of climbing the ladder here at Torchwood."

Rose failed utterly at the contrite look she shot up to him. "Good thing I'm not technically employed by you, yet."

Mickey snickered. Jake smacked him. Miles frown only deepened, but Pete could see the light of respect in his eyes, from one smart ass to another.

"Best get that paperwork done then before you burn the entire place down," Miles shot back, eyebrows arching over his glasses. "Think you can handle that, Ms. Tyler, without pissing off my security team any further?"

"I'll try," she replied, perhaps a touch cheekily, as she gave the dragon creature an affectionate pat. Glancing at Pete, she looked somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry for ditching you that way, just...not used to running from the trouble, I guess."

"How about you go and behave yourself for the rest of the day and I don't tell your mother about this, yeah?" Pete scratched the _raperna_ behind what he hoped was its ear. "And no, we don't get to take this home with us."

"What fun are you," she teased as she made her way to the metal, graded steps that led to where Miles stood above.


	31. Chapter 31

"We've neared the completion of the data extraction from the other world." Despite nearly having been singed by someone's pet dragon earlier in the day, Miles was calm, cool and collected as he gave Pete his report. "Alternate histories are stored away, all the information of alien species they gathered has been recorded, and we've even taken special note of a few inventions we may want to discreetly farm out to research and development."

"Inventions? Nothing like what we did with Lumic?" Instinct warred with practicality in Pete as he regarded Miles' report. Torchwood had played this game before, sharing technology with those that other directors thought they could trust, only to have the dog bite the very hand that fed him. He was unwilling to place the world in any danger like that again.

"Most of what I highlighted on that list likely would be minor consumer products, such as this MP3 they had, allows for the compression of data. Something that could be easily integrated on a tablet if we could have the right computer team working on it."

"And then market it through one of the old, dummy corporations leftover from Lumic." Pete nodded, liking this plan much more. "We get direct control and proceeds can be used for recovery efforts, charities…"

"Funding Torchwood, which isn't cheap, you know," Miles replied mildly.

"That it isn't." Pete grimaced, knowing all too well Torchwood's financials and was heartily glad that he wasn't responsible for maintaining the complex and labyrinthine methods used to fund the more secret aspects of what to the rest of society should be a research think tank. Many of the products highlighted on Miles' list were indeed things that were relatively small or mild, many of them beneficial and some he was surprised hadn't been thought of in their world. One in particular caught his eye and he glanced up at Miles, who smiled knowingly.

"I've earmarked the jet engine technology for you personally. I thought, given your charm, you may have your Vitex investors take a crack at it?"

"That smacks of a hint of the unethical."

"The chance of flying to America in a few hours rather than over a day? Tell me that doesn't interest you?"

"There is truth in that," Pete muttered, nodding. "That one I'd like personally. But I want to have that controlled. No one running around with it to create weapons or portals to another world or anything."

"No guarantees once the product is out there, but we can see what happens."

"Right." Pete smiled, thinking of how nice it would be to have one of those planes he saw in Rose, Jackie, and Mickey's world. "Anything on sports cars in there?"

"Even got a new type of material for jerseys in here. Make your footie matches more interesting."

"Amazing the differences between two worlds." Pete smiled, leaning back in his desk chair, recalling his singular trip to the other London of Jackie's world. So many things were different, and yet, there were many things that were the same. Jackie, for instance, and the way she laughed at his stupid jokes. And the way she took her tea. And how she snored when she slept, ever so slightly, curled into his side that morning.

"How are the flowers over there where you are grazing?"

Pete only realized he was staring moonily out of his office window when Miles' smirk caught his eye. "Been a long month. First day back in the office, lots on the mind."

"Of course," Miles replied in that way that was almost subversive, and yet, not. Pete thought he could see laughter behind his field director's glasses.

"How was Rose," Pete muttered by way of changing the subject, wondering, not for the first time, why he kept Miles around, until he remembered Gordon and the dragon.

"She handled herself well today." Miles looked so pleased one would have thought Rose was his field director's daughter.

"She did," Pete agreed, thinking of how the girl literally ran into the face of danger without even giving it a second thought. "Can't ever tell Jackie what she did, though."

"There are many things in this world I am, sir, but stupid isn't one of them." Miles pushed his his glasses up his nose as he leaned back into his seat. "She's rough, but trainable. Doesn't have the tactical mind of Simmonds, but savvy and with heart."

That seemed to sum up Rose in a nutshell. The small well of fatherly pride and affection that had been born that horrible night so long ago had been growing since Rose literally landed in his lap and ended up in this world. And now it swelled as he considered the girl who just a month before had not existed in his life.

"Hard to believe she's mine, now." He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. "Sort of doesn't feel right. She's the child of another man, another Pete."

"You keep bringing that up as if it means something," Miles retorted.

"Look at you talking! You're the one who preached at me that Jackie wasn't my wife, I wasn't her husband, shouldn't be mixing timelines, and now you are acting as if none of that means anything now."

"Working with the moment at hand, sir. And the reality is that they are here and they are yours." He arched a blonde eyebrow pointedly over his thick frames. "Aren't they?"

Pete felt himself flush. Damn Miles, his perception, and the fact Pete felt embarrassed enough to clear his throat and glare darkly at his subordinate. "Why did you suggest that Rose join Torchwood?"

"I knew she would be amazing at it. She's an asset. Cool in the face of fire, like you saw, and smart. Takes a bit after her father."

"A bit," Pete agreed, though not totally happy about it. He knew all too well how reckless he could be in his choices, only regretting things well after the fact. "You knew it would be problematic. It's why you had her come and talk to me first."

"Yeah," Miles didn't deny it.

"Why?"

"Because I knew Jackie would be angry the minute she heard about it." For all that Miles got along with this current Jackie much better than his first wife, there was some perverse part of him that seemed to delight in annoying the hell out of her. Pete wasn't particularly sure he approved.

"Jackie's protective of Rose, there's no hiding that, and you wanted to pick a fight with the mother bear?"

"Not particularly, but it got results. Rose needed this, Pete, and you know she did. You can't spend five minutes with the girl and not see that she's hurting."

"And lost," Pete added, remembering the pained frustration that flickered across Rose's face when she said she wasn't even supposed to be there. "God, I remember that place. Right after my Jacks died. Sitting in that room I was in at the time, just wondering what I was going to do. Fighting just to breath because it hurt like hell to bother doing that."

"Wondering if you'd have to go another day feeling this way because if you did, you knew you would go crazy?" Miles nodded slowly, his voice soft and distant.

They shared the silence of remembered pain for long moments, before Pete broke it, curious. "What got you out?"

"Torchwood, of course." Miles shrugged, running hands nervously down perfectly pleated pants. "I had taken time off from my last job. They made me at that point, my mental state...I was a liability. Can't have those in SIS."

"No, I imagine not."

Miles smiled so tightly it looked more like a grimace. "Omar's sister and I are close. She was working here in medical at the time. Thought I could use the change of pace."

"So you ended up a PA?" How that happened Pete would never know.

"No, I ended up in the field. I was assigned to your PA because you were a field operative and I could come off as harmless enough to be a male personal assistant and bitchy enough to be effective at it."

"Amanda is good, but she's got nothing on you," Pete acknowledged, though he was not sad for moving Miles to his elevated role.

"It was all right. Besides, it allowed me to...do something good. Something useful. Before, I did things that others wouldn't and rationalized it to myself. Omar always asked me what sort of man I was becoming, and I would brush it off. But here, I knew I was trying to do something good, something right. And I thought, if I couldn't be with him anymore, then at least I could be doing something to honor him."

Pete understood that sentiment completely. "Same here. That's how I felt about Jacks."

"And that's why I suggested Rose come work for us. It would give her something."

Wasn't that why they all ended up there? Pete, Miles, even Jake and Mickey. And now Rose as well, refugees of loss, all hoping to make up for it at Torchwood. "Is this then where we end up to mend a broken heart?"

"Better than developing a drinking habit, I suppose."

"And far more dangerous," he intoned, but sighed in acceptance. "If she works out, fine. And heaven help you with her mother should she get hurt."

"I do not wish to incur the wrath of Jackie Tyler, that much I know." Though, Miles hardly looked frightened of the possibility. "And besides, perhaps this will help her move on. She can maybe learn to care for someone else or something else."

"Is that psychology or something," Pete snorted, realizing they were one bottle of scotch away from this being some sort of strange, male bonding moment.

"Worked for you, didn't it?"

Damn it. Just as Pete suspected earlier, Miles did know. The cheeky smile lurking at the corner's of his mouth couldn't be hidden behind his sarcasm. "Rose gossiping?"

"More like the glow and the strut of a man who just got laid that you've been wearing all day."

Pete didn't think he could turn more red if he tried. "Well...we are just seeing how things go for now. No pressure." In truth, neither he or Jackie had discussed it.

"Good! That's good." Miles' simple smile made Pete want to smash him in the face.

"What?"

"It's just...it's about time. It's good for you, Pete. And it's okay to move on. Even if it is with someone who is a version of your dead wife. Even if it is strange and somewhat creepy."

"Shut up," Pete growled as Miles made to stand. "You ever going to move on yourself one day?"

"Who says I haven't?" Miles replied, rising cockily at Pete's surprised stare.

"I haven't...I mean...I guess I never asked. Who is it?"

"No one you know," Miles assured him.

Pete tried to consider. Miles lived and breathed work, he didn't know he even had a social life. The most lively interaction he ever saw the man have was with Mickey and Jake. "It's not Jake, is it?"

Miles reaction was equal parts affronted and horrified. "Simmonds? That's like shagging myself! Besides he's a subordinate and the person I'm grooming to be my second one day."

"Just curious is all."

Miles was clearly not going to budge. "He's in administration at Vitex, he makes an amazing cup of coffee, and that is all I am going to share at this time."

"Fine," Pete finally let him off the hook with a thoughtful smile. "Good for you."

"Likewise, sir." Miles inclined his head. "If you are done with me?"

"Yeah, thanks." Pete waved him off, shuffling the papers of the report together before a sudden thought struck him. "Miles!"

The other man paused at the office door.

"In the information you received from the other Torchwood, did you find anything on the Doctor?"

A grim line formed for the briefest of moments. "I've sent you an encoded file on that, sir. I didn't even let Rose see it."

"Did you read it?"

"Parts of it," he admitted. "They tracked him for years. Some of it was real, some of it legend, bits and pieces of half-truths."

"Like?"

"Stories that go back for centuries of his exploits. Usually he had someone with him."

"Rose?"

Miles shook his head. "Not always."

"Anything else? Like who these Time Lords were? What this war Rose and Mickey keep talking about was?"

"Nothing of note. But I do know this, judging from what Torchwood on that side had on him, the Doctor is one of the most powerful beings in any universe and perhaps the most dangerous."

"How so?"

Miles took long moments to consider before answering. "I've never met the man, mind you. But let's just say that I am heartily glad that we happen to have been on the same side as he was, because those who aren't will wish they weren't fairly quickly."

"And what side is he on," Pete wondered.

"Whatever seems to keep the Earth safest, so far as I can tell."

Pete had a feeling that Miles was likely right in that observation. "I'll keep the file for now, but delete it from the rest of our records. I don't want anyone stumbling across it or connecting it to Rose and Jackie."

"Of course. Is that all?"

"Yeah, goodnight." Pete watched the other man slip out of the door, considering the strange alien who had stumbled across his path that fateful night. Outside of Rose's sake, Pete vaguely wished that the Doctor wasn't a whole universe away. To have someone like that, there, with his knowledge, experience, ability and even compassion. It made the idea of what he was trying to do in Torchwood a lot less overwhelming knowing that someone like the Doctor existed.

No wonder Rose loved him.


	32. Chapter 32

Even the most noble, the most high-minded things in life sometimes came with strings attached. For Pete Tyler, the kid from the wrong side of London who had all the talent and ambition in the world and none of the opportunities, life had turned out strange indeed. He'd been given the golden egg once upon a time. Down on his luck, his marriage in jeopardy, he'd taken the offer laid before him, only to find out that you just can't magically make all your problems go away. He may have been rich, he may have been famous, but the thing that mattered most to him, the woman he loved, was forever lost to him. It was only when Jackie was gone that he realized what a mistake his decision had been. Fate, or perhaps Time, had been kind to him. It had given him a second chance just when he least expected it, in the form of a daughter he had always wanted and never had and a madman in a blue box who sacrificed everything to save two worlds. 

Now, nearly two months on from what could have very nearly been the end of the universe as they knew it, Pete Tyler sat back in the entertainment room of the house he'd never called his own, the woman he thought lost to him curled beside him, as her daughter - their daughter - slept lightly on the opposite couch. The telly droned with a movie that none of them had seen before, but Pete wasn't paying it much mind. He was far more focused on running his fingers through the platinum blonde hair of the woman beside him.

"Rose out over there?" Jackie didn't even raise her head to look over at her.

Judging from the girl's light snores, Pete thought she probably was. "Gordon's been running her pretty hard."

Jackie's sigh was somewhere between exasperation and resignation. "I suppose it keeps her mind off things."

"True," he murmured, fingers trailing down the side of her face as he draped his arm over her shoulders. "And you? It's been a few weeks. Missing home much?"

"Yeah, sometimes." She was honest as she turned her head slightly to look up at him, blue eyes thoughtful. "I mean, I miss silly things. The chippy down the way. The old neighbors. Miss my friends."

The last reminded Pete how very lonely it must be for Jackie now, in a world where all her ties were cut except for the ones to her daughter and to him. "You need to get out of the house."

"To do what," she snorted, turning back to the telly. "I got no education, don't have any posh airs or graces. What's out there for me?"

"I don't know." In all honesty, Pete wasn't sure. His first wife had sort of made a niche for herself. "What are you interested in doing?"

She shrugged, curling tighter into him. "I don't know. Your place needs work."

He chuckled. They'd agreed to keep to the mansion rather than return to his more modest penthouse flat in the city. Rose had preferred the secluded nature of the manor house. Jackie of course had loved the poshness of it. Both women enjoyed the space it gave them to hide out from each other when they were annoyed with one another, which happened frequently. But it was old and big, far too much for one woman to keep up with by herself.

"How about this. I'll see if we can't get a staff back here at the place. Maybe a housekeeper to help run things, a couple of ladies to clean a few times a week, some staff for the grounds. Maybe a cook?"

"You saying something about my cooking," she retorted, jerking back to glare up at him.

"No...no, I only got a little indigestion from that Shepherd's Pie the other night. Wasn't anything at all."

Jackie guffawed, but relented, slapping his stomach hard, making Pete wince. "Serves you right for disparaging my cooking."

"Can we still get a cook?" His smile was all mischief as she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, a cook. But I get to choose them, yeah. Don't want someone who's going to be experimenting on us or serving us mouthfuls and calling it a meal."

"As long as you still make the tea around here, I won't complain." That placated her somewhat as she settled again. He chuckled softly, earning a giggle out of her as well. "You always were bad in the kitchen."

"You weren't great shakes either," she snorted, teasing. "So if I have this staff to take care of the place, what am I supposed to do with myself?"

"Take up gardening?"

She only laughed harder. "Never met a plant I couldn't kill!"

"Raising dogs?"

"Don't even want one!" She wrinkled her nose, and Pete decided against bringing up his last wife's pet.

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

Jackie was pensive, quiet for long moments. "I don't know, really. I don't know anyone here. I don't know what I could do. I wasn't smart like Rose, never clever. I just liked people. You know, talking and stuff, I was good at that, just getting to know people. Not much use for something like that."

"I don't know," Pete mused softly. "I mean, a lot of what I do has to do with meeting people and talking."

"That's...what do they call it? Networking?"

"Still, all you need to do that is to smile, chat them up, make them feel comfortable and you're good at that."

"Yeah," she sighed, vaguely.

"Could get you out there, you know. Out into society."

He might as well have suggested she lob a limb off, judging from her reaction. She twisted up, staring at him as if he'd dribbled all over himself. "Your posh friends? You want me out with them?"

"Why not?" The instant fear and rejection that met his question took him by surprise.

"Because I don't know them, that's why. Because they think they know me, and they will come up to me, and they will expect me to be able to carry on like always and not knowing I'm a total stranger."

"The world thinks your memory is dodgy and as patchy as Swiss cheese. Why not run with your strengths?"

"Be serious," she hissed swatting his middle again, earning a grunt for her efforts and a wounded look out of him.

"I am being serious! Think about it, Jacks. No one knows that you aren't the same Jackie they knew. And frankly, the one they knew wasn't such a great person in the end." He thought sadly of his first wife and how different she had become. "Maybe you have a chance to make them see you differently. Maybe better."

"Better?" Her tone was doubtful, but he could see hope sparkling in her eyes. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Jackie wasn't so different from her daughter. She, too, desired to escape the stigma of her circumstances, to be something different...better.

"Yeah," Pete affirmed, taking her hand. "You could go out there and make a real difference. Maybe take up something, a cause. Fight for single mothers, women like you who are in tight straights and feel they have no options."

"Could do." She didn't look completely turned off by the idea. "I mean, we've passed that story that we gave Rose up. Got to be other women out there who have stories. Had to give up kids or had to make hard choices just to take care of them. I know what's that's like."

"Yeah, you do. And you can maybe make a difference."

He could see the ideas taking root, at least a little, coalescing into possibilities for Jackie. Her gaze flickered over to the sleeping Rose, softening as it did.

"Yeah, I know, it's not saving the world from aliens or something, but I guess it is important, yeah?"

"Yes," he agreed, pulling her into his arms and planting a kiss firmly on the top of her head as he rested back into the cushions. She snuggled closer as well, curling up against him again, her head on his chest.

"You know, everything I ever did, it was always for her. I mean, yeah, I was rubbish at a lot of real jobs, and I may not have gotten my life together, but I always made sure my girl was taken care of."

"You were amazing," he assured her softly. "And now you have a second chance with all of it."

"Yeah," she hummed, rolling over so she could look up at him. "A second chance for you, too."

"Guess it's for both of us."

"You think we will muck it up this time?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe we are older and wiser. And the universe hasn't seen fit to give this gift to us with any strings attached. I think we're safe."

"It's all madness how this happened. You never know what next maniacal thing will be."

"I could just walk out the door and be hit by a car again tomorrow, or you could die in another horrible tragedy, or we could live just normal, happy lives. How about that for a change?"

Jackie's troubled face spread into a wide grin. "That sounds alright, I guess."

"Good, because I quite like the idea of living a quiet life without having to save the world from insanity for a while, thank you."

"So do I!" She leaned up to kiss him soundly on the cheek. "And if I ever get a chance to see the Doctor again, I'll have to remember to thank him."

"For?"

"Being utterly insane. Else, I couldn't have imagined ever getting another chance with you."

"Cheers to that," Pete agreed, punctuating his endorsement with a kiss far less chaste than Jackie's.

Whispering and giggling like schoolchildren, the pair made their way down the hall, leaving Rose to her slumbers, unwilling to wake her from much needed rest. Wrapped up in their own contentment, unbeknownst to them in an entire dimension away, the only time and space ship left in the universe materialized beside a dying star. The doors of its police call box exterior opened to look upon it, and man, the last of his kind, stared out at it in sad contemplation. He watched the star glow coldly in its dense tightness, its mass compressing so hard it seemed ready to explode into the universe in violence and despair, much as his own, careworn hearts.

"We'll see if this works, shall we?" He spoke to no one in particular, as there was no one their to listen. But he turned, all the same, back into his magnificent ship and to the inside that was larger than the out, ignoring the denim jacket slung over a hand rail as he meandered to the console. Fingers flew along the screen, following a language only he knew anymore, calculating coordinates as he whispered a single name.

Rose, in her slumber on the sofa, stirred ever so slightly and fell back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What you don't know is that _Strings Attached_ is part of a series I started and have yet to complete. The sequel is _Tangled Strings_ which I hope to transfer over here and begin working on in earnest again after a year off of it. So am outlining future chapters already and will begin prodding it back into life, 
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed the story of Pete and Jackie finding each other again. They've been a joy to write for and I find I quite like Pete as a muse, and not just because I have a propensity for writing about my fellow gingers. I also have a deep and abiding love for Miles Connor, who sort of morphed out of my brain, a pastiche of several different characters that I've run across who turned into him. I am a fan and he shall keep appearing in the _Strung Together_ series.
> 
> So, Jackie and Pete's relationship will continue to evolve as Pete learns to juggle a whole, new complicated life and Rose must figure out what her world looks like without the Doctor. Thank you all for reading.


End file.
